


The Fell Clutch of Circumstance

by GavotteAndGigue



Series: Twisted Fate [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Touching, Piercings, Sexual Coercion, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, non-consensual feeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22865623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GavotteAndGigue/pseuds/GavotteAndGigue
Summary: Slade returns to Gotham only to discover that Jason is missing. What he does find is a very concerned Nightwing searching for clues to where Jason has disappeared to. Meanwhile, Jason’s in a quandary he’s not sure how to get out of. Black Mask’s interest in him extends beyond mere business pursuits. Can Jason buy himself enough time to figure out an escape, especially with a certain red-headed Amazon and Kryptonian clone added to the mix?
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Roman Sionis/Jason Todd
Series: Twisted Fate [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1506506
Comments: 146
Kudos: 456





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fleet_of_red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleet_of_red/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [The Fell Clutch of Circumstance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25307335) by [SilverCat_414](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverCat_414/pseuds/SilverCat_414)



> Warnings: Threat of m/m rape and non-consensual situations but mostly non-consensual touching. Mind control. There is an initial scene where there is a threat of f/m noncon, but it goes away after the first chapter.
> 
> Apologies in advance but this turned out to be a very plotty fic. Sorry sorry. There are explicit situations, but if you’re in it for the porn you’re going to have to wait.
> 
> Many thanks to [@EmeraldHeiress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldHeiress/pseuds/EmeraldHeiress) for the thorough beta and also for the title (from William Ernest Henley's _Invictus_ )

After three assassination attempts over the course of the last two months, it was no surprise that the long-running dictator of Bialya had beefed up her security to the point that even Deathstroke was having trouble finding an angle to fulfill his contract. Queen Bee governed exclusively from her compound with all access points heavily guarded, satellite-monitored security, and bolstered with a few low-grade psionics the Queen had scrounged up from some cesspool of washed-up villains. Each security measure on its own wasn't something that would normally give Slade pause, but taken cumulatively it was irritatingly tricky to make this job as simple and straightforward as Slade would have preferred.

A long-range sniper shot was proving to be a difficult setup. The land was too flat with too few vantage points that made it hard to get a clear shot, even from a distance with a modified .50 caliber rifle. Slade had concluded the easiest, cleanest, and quickest way to do the job was up close and personal. He just had to figure out the best route in. True that he could simply slaughter his way through the literal army of military security, hired mercs, fanatic nationalists, and brainwashed pawns, but that was a little excessive even for Slade. That would require renegotiation. He wasn't hired to fight a one-man war against an entire country. He was paid to kill one person. He'd take out anyone that stood in the way, but his primary objective was Queen Bee.

The final caveat, however, was that the Queen wasn't just some delicate monarch who would keel over as soon as Deathstroke knocked on her door. She was a ruthless despot and a force to be reckoned with. Notorious for her mind control abilities over men, she had forced even the most iron-willed and genocidal dictators to their knees before her. If Slade got close, he'd have to be careful, and that sort of caution required planning.

He spent the better part of the first week in Bialya just doing reconnaissance and by the end of it he was growing a little impatient. He'd told Jason he'd be back in two weeks tops. At this rate he probably wasn't going to make that timeline, which irked him to no end. The task of doing recon normally fell to Wintergreen to be done in advance, but after the first few assassins _and_ their handlers had fallen prey to Queen Bee's pheromone-induced mind control, Slade had deemed it too risky. He resorted to doing recon the old-fashioned way: boots on the ground, scouting out the various options until he had a solid point of entry.

It took longer than anticipated, edging into the end of the second week by the time he'd paid out the last few bribes he needed for access and escape. Dusk had dwindled down into darkness on the night he was finally ready for execution. He had planned to head out and finish the job before the sun rose again, when an unexpected visitor arrived.

Matthew Bland, known by many as the Red Lion—his current employer and brutal, genocidal dictator in his own right—showed up at the door of the small set of rooms Slade had rented for his time in Bialya. Slade had noticed Matthew approaching through the window several minutes before, but he allowed it even though he had his mask off. Matthew already knew who Slade was, having engaged Deathstroke’s services a half dozen times at this point, and he often took the recurring nature of their business relationship as license to be overly familiar.

"What do you want Matthew? I'm getting the job done." Slade eyed him suspiciously. Matthew had a way of turning up when he was up to something, and that something was often lucrative for Slade. He'd already paid Slade for the job though. There was no good reason for the Red Lion to show up before Slade closed the contract. That was why people like Matthew hired assassins in the first place. Politicking between dictators usually meant they had others do the dirty work so they could reap the power while showing the world they had their hands clean.

"I have a duty to make sure I am getting what I paid for." The other man was in what Slade thought of as his red catsuit. Matthew probably hoped it made him look menacing. Slade thought otherwise. After a pause, Matthew added, "There have been rumors, Slade, that you failed to fulfill a contract to kill a _cape_ in Gotham."

"He wasn't a cape and you don't know the terms of the contract." Slade didn't elaborate any further. As far as he was concerned, talk of the Red Hood was off limits. Matthew Bland, ruthless President-for-life who was responsible for massacring thousands, would take any opportunity to use information to his advantage. Slade wasn't going to let him use Jason against him.

Slade redirected back to the matter at hand. "I'll be done with the job tonight. This would have been quicker if you had just hired me in the first place. You wasted money and resources on cheap contractors who couldn't finish the job. Too many negative externalities. Now Queen Bee's on high alert and it's costing you."

"You were unavailable," Matthew shrugged, "while you were apparently _not_ doing the job for which you were hired in Gotham."

Which was true. Slade had been busy with Jason over the last few months, but he replied, "I took your contract. And I've always done what you've paid me to do. That's all you need to know." Slade had committed and now he would follow through, especially if he wanted to quell any further rumors that Deathstroke could be easily out-bought after what happened with the Penguin. That was not his normal MO. Jason was a _special circumstance._

His soulmark subtly pulsed at the thought of Jason, a warm ache that Slade welcomed, but then he remembered how he'd left Jason behind. It would have been nice if he could have enjoyed some of the perks that came with keeping Jason close, especially with a job that proved as frustrating as this one. It was unfortunate that the bats had filled the kid's head with such utter bullshit. If he’d had the time, he would have beat the shit out of Batman and Nightwing for their meddling, then knocked some sense into Jason. Preferably by pinning the kid on his back and having at him through more pleasurable means. However, the contract timeline was tight and he couldn't renege on two jobs in a row without taking a reputational hit in the underground. Risky that. Other assassins would eventually crowd in on his turf, maybe even issue a challenge if they thought he was getting weak. Shado wouldn't be too far behind on his heels. Maybe even Shiva.

"I paid up front but I expect results," Matthew persisted. Much to Slade's annoyance, he was still standing in the room. "It would be a shame to see the mighty Deathstroke become the world's most unreliable assassin, my friend."

Matthew had casually pilfered the Deathstroke mask and was now dangling it in front of Slade. The bastard was teasing him. Slade quickly snatched it out of his hands.

"We're not friends," Slade grumbled. Matthew was annoyingly perceptive. Maybe he knew something was up with Slade's recent failed contract, maybe he didn't, but he had brought the contract to Slade at an opportune time. A job like this would quickly shut the rumors down. Not that Slade cared what other people said. It was just that dealing with an onrush of foolhardy challengers was a hassle he did not want to deal with. Fortunately, political assassinations were right up Slade's alley and the sooner he got things done the sooner he could get back to Gotham.

"You'll have confirmation by morning," Slade replied. "Get the hell out of here, Matthew, or the Queen will eat you alive."

"Ha! What have I to worry if by morning she'll be nothing but a corpse?"

There wasn’t anything else to be said. Matthew was right. Queen Bee would be nothing more than a cold corpse by the time dawn arrived, so Slade left his not-friend to his gloating. Whatever political feud was happening between the Red Lion and Queen Bee would be over soon because Matthew had finally coughed up the money for Deathstroke's full services.

He made short work of the journey into Queen Bee's compound, the thrill of anticipation pumping through his veins at the prospect of finally making a kill. The pieces were falling into place—several hefty bribes with the food suppliers had enabled the kitchen staff to unwittingly drug the psionics for the night. A couple of cloned security passes that Wintergreen was able to procure through his sources got him through the front gates. Finally, a circuit of the compound was completed to set some C4 in case Slade needed a distraction. He followed the path he'd laid out after memorizing the thermal maps until he found himself standing outside the Queen's quarters in the dead of night.

Slade didn't hesitate. He broke open the door with a powerful kick that splintered the panel out of the frame. He launched into the room, sword drawn and ready to take off the Queen's head only to come face-to-face with none other than his employer, Matthew. The Red Lion himself.

"What the fuck?" Slade stopped short in confusion but everything quickly became clear. The room was dimly lit with the soft glow of candles. The bed sheets were tousled and Matthew was only half dressed. Slade watched in disgust as a more delicate form stepped out from behind him, snaking an arm up and down Matthew's bare torso as she did so. Queen Bee.

"Shit," Slade looked at Matthew's blank expression. "She got to you."

"And to you," Queen Bee added, a wicked smile stretched across her sultry mien. She sauntered over, her sheer negligee flowed and floated softly around her.

Slade reacted with a snarl, intending to cut her throat with a quick slash of his sword. Try as he might, however, he couldn’t launch himself forward. He could barely move at all.

"How…?" Churning out the single word was like cranking a rusted gear as he fought against Queen Bee's hold. Procuring a mask that filtered out her pheromones had been one of the first things he’d done… but then he remembered how Matthew had appeared earlier that night, taunting Slade by holding his mask. The red bloom of bloodlust filled his vision as Slade realized Queen Bee had planned this. She must have gotten to Matthew earlier and sent him to Slade as a Trojan Horse. He must have been wearing her pheromones, and though subtle, enough had gotten in his mask that now Slade was struggling to resist.

"I'm impressed," Queen Bee was close now as she reached up to pull his mask off. She leaned in and Slade could smell a sweet perfume, a heavy woody scent with low rosey notes. Underneath he could detect something else. Something he knew that was uniquely the Queen.

"Such strength. Such great skill." She stroked her hands up and down his arms, gliding them over his pectorals. "You would have succeeded tonight if I had not managed to seduce President Bland here two days ago."

Slade felt heady and hot. He felt his pulse increasing as he unwillingly breathed in more of her scent. Slade found himself dropping his sword, feeling the sudden desire to bury his nose in the Queen's lustrous, dark hair. To put his hands on her hips and pull her forward until he could press against her. It would have been overwhelming, that flush of arousal that stirred at the nerves of his entire body, if not for the steady, stabbing ache on his arm that seemed to fight back. His soulmark. _Jason._

He focused on it. He thought of the way Jason's masculine musk had none of that cloying sweetness. How Jason was all rippled hard muscle under his hands. How his body thrummed with ferocity when they sparred, even when he knew he couldn't win against Slade. Jason was all strength and power and Slade recalled how delicious it was every time Slade subdued his defiantly stubborn soulmate beneath him. How glorious it was when Jason finally relented and let Slade fuck him… those soft whimpers and cries Jason spewed everytime Slade brought him to orgasm.

Suddenly the influences of the Queen paled in comparison, and Slade snapped into focus. He shoved Queen Bee away, knocking her to the ground.

"Kill him!" she shouted at Matthew. The other man launched at him but Slade was able to parry. He countered with a grab, kneeing Matthew hard enough to break a few ribs before throwing him out the window. He'd survive, Slade figured. Probably. People like him usually needed a man like Deathstroke to gut him properly to really kick the bucket. Either way, Slade needed to get Matthew out of the way for what came next.

Slade had thrown off the Queen’s influence for the time being, but he wasn't going to gamble that she couldn’t re-exert her control over him again. He needed to make this quick. And permanent.

He turned and redoubled his attack on Queen Bee. She had miscalculated badly, relying too heavily on the power of her mind control. She'd been too arrogant and too confident that the Red Lion would be available for her defense and that Slade would succumb to her will. She hadn't outfitted her quarters with the proper guard and now she was a sitting duck. He kicked her hard in the face, toppling her to the floor. She attempted to push up onto her hands, but Slade quickly stomped on her back, pressing her down to the ground. He picked up his sword, raising it with the intention of cleaving off her head. He brought it down with a powerful whip of his arm, but felt himself swing wide. He missed her head by inches. When Slade looked down, an insolent grin was spread across Queen Bee's face.

"Once under my thrall a drone cannot possibly kill his Queen," she laughed. "You're _mine."_

Slade could literally feel the wave of pheromones hit him full-on in the face. He tried to step back but his feet felt heavy as lead. His sword clattered uselessly to the floor, his fingers slack, his knees suddenly weak. Strength drained from his limbs as he staggered toward the overpowering scent emanating from the Queen. It filled him with a heady lust. He could practically taste her sweetness on his tongue. He almost reached out to take her hand, if not for the fluttering feeling that ran up his arm. His little _robin_ continued to fight back against her seduction.

It yanked Slade back into focus."I've got a soulmate who would disagree," he growled as he pulled a remote detonator out of his belt. He'd intended to use it as a distraction to aid his escape in case things went south. Looked like he'd have to use it for his primary objective.

"What are you doing?" Queen Bee said in alarm. "Help me up!" She reached a hand out and Slade felt his feet moving forward automatically at her command. The air was saturated with her stench, but now it was thick and sour and nauseating, making his head pound painfully as if she were digging claws into his mind. Slade's soulmark pulsed back stronger, breaking her influence long enough so that he could force himself to stop. If he didn't end this soon he was going to be fucked in more ways than one. He flipped the safety off the detonator and pressed the button.

A series of deafening explosions rocked the compound. All at once the roof caved in. As Slade watched, everything around him moved as if in slow motion. A large wedge of concrete fell right on top of Queen Bee's head. There was an eruption of gore that reminded Slade vaguely of what happened when you dropped a watermelon from on high, except the wet plop of it was overpowered by the loud rumbling of the collapsing compound. Clouds of dust obscured his vision but Slade didn’t need to see anymore. Queen Bee was dead and he could move freely again. He ran toward the window, hand nearly grasping the sill just as the floor gave way beneath him. It was too late to jump. He began to fall.

Slade hit the floor below with a vicious crack. As several metric tons of iron and concrete tumbled down upon him, Slade couldn't help but think that if Jason had been here, he would have devised a way so that the explosives wouldn't have crushed himself in the process of taking out the Queen.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"You're a bloody idiot!" Someone was peering down at him from above. Slade could only make out a dark silhouette against the bright overhead lights but he would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Billy, what the hell happened?" Slade's throat felt like sandpaper. Judging by the way his tongue tasted chalky and the feel of grit when he pressed his teeth together, it was because he literally had a mouth full of dirt and dust.

"It took my men three days to dig you out of the rubble of the Queen's compound," another voice replied. Slade recognized that one too. By now his vision was adjusting, and he turned to see Matthew standing beside the medical gurney he was laying on. "You looked like what you Americans call _hamburger meat_. My men thought you dead but I laughed and said you would be up in no time. Congratulations! Deathstroke has done what no other man has—the Queen Bee is confirmed dead. The world's deadliest man-eater killed by the world's deadliest man. Fitting," Matthew laughed. "Your reputation is surely secured."

Slade didn't bother to respond. He simply pushed himself up, testing his mobility as he shifted to put his feet on the ground.

"I wouldn't recommend physical exertion at the moment. Having every bone broken and your organs ruptured is stressful on your body, even for you." Yet another familiar voice, this time it was an older man with white hair and a lab coat. Doctor Villain, Slade's personal physician.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Slade muttered irritably, ignoring the man's words to test his weight on the floor. "Is this some kind of party?"

"I extracted you to my country, Buredunia, and had the good Doctor _Wheelon_ flown in on your comrade Wintergreen's insistence," Matthew chimed in. "You have been out for five days, my friend, but Herr Doctor has brought you back good as new."

"It is pronounced _Will-hane._ And it's _French,_ not German." The doctor sighed.

They started a back-and-forth but Slade tuned them out as he got to his feet. He felt sore all over but relatively sound given that he'd been buried under several tons of concrete. No wonder it had taken him a few days to heal. If it took three days to dig him out and another five days of being comatose that was a week and counting. He was long overdue back in Gotham.

Slade noted he was wearing only a hospital gown as he looked down at where the robinmark stood out starkly on his bare arm. It was still faintly fluttering, an uneasy feeling that spiked into a galvanic current along his skin as he touched it with his fingers. It had his hackles rising.

Something was wrong. He brought his hand away, but not quickly enough. The others had been watching, three pairs of eyes fixed on him intently.

"I'm leaving," Slade said aloud. He shot everyone a look, particularly at Matthew, that dared them to comment.

No one did.

A few hours later, Slade had reclaimed his gear and was ready to go. Wintergreen and Dr. Villain followed as Slade boarded Matthew's borrowed jet. Getting crushed into a pancake had delayed him over a week but, once again, Slade made it out like he always did. Alive.

In hindsight, he could have planned the mission better. He'd be a fool not to acknowledge that on some level he'd been distracted. Not that he would ever say it out loud. As it turned out, he didn't need to. Wintergreen tore into him as soon as he was safely strapped into the co-pilot's seat of the jet.

"What the bloody hell is going on with you?" Wintergreen speared him with a reproving look. "You canceled a contract for the first time in decades and then you nearly botched up this latest job. You've been preoccupied ever since you cut the deal with the Red Hood. Have you gone completely mad?"

Wintergreen had been suspicious as hell when he picked the two of them up from the cabin, but Slade hadn't bothered to enlighten him on the details of what went down. The veteran officer was shrewd enough not to probe deeply in front of a supposed stranger, which had the fortunate effect of allowing Slade to take advantage of Wintergreen and Jason's mutual suspicion to keep them both in the dark. Wintergreen couldn't be put off for long though. He knew Slade too well.

"Your soulmark. You were touching it." Wintergreen pinched the bridge of his nose. "Bloody hell. Don't tell me this is what I think it is."

"Fine. I won't," Slade huffed.

Wintergreen just looked exasperated. "That boy you picked up in Gotham, you buggered him at that backwater lodge." It was a statement, not a question.

"He's not just _some boy_ I picked up, Billy." Slade suddenly felt annoyed at Wintergreen’s dismissive tone. "In case it wasn't obvious, he's the Red Hood. We're paired."

The grim lines of Wintergreen’s scowl etched deeper into his face. "Bollocks. Something tells me you played Fate's hand in this. A boy from Gotham who matches the _robin_ on your arm… if he's one of Batman's, you're playing a dangerous game, Slade."

"We're all playing a dangerous game. Fate rigged the game from the start."

"And yet for some asinine reason you continue to play." After a pause, Wintergreen added, "He's not the same bird as the first one."

"No." Slade clipped his tones, because of course Wintergreen would remember that. He was just about the only person in the world who could make Slade react with petulance. The man called out elephants as much as he had the memory of one. "This one's real,” Slade clarified. “It's reciprocated."

Wintergreen simply snorted. "I know better than to ask what you did to make that happen. You already know this, because you can barely show affection to your own children, but I'm going to say it anyway: for you, a soulmate is a bloody terrible idea."

Slade made no reply. He couldn't deny that as usual, Wintergreen was probably right.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The dying glow of Gotham's pallored sun had fully receded over the horizon by the time Slade stepped out of the taxi. He stood for a moment at the curb outside the apartment building, his Ikon suit under his clothes and his gear in a large duffle slung over his shoulder, looking up at the mid-rise art deco tower that had served as their safehouse for the last month or so. More like _Jason's_ safehouse Slade supposed, since Slade himself hadn't stepped foot anywhere near it in over three weeks.

That hadn't been his intention but Slade was here now. He wondered if Jason would be there when he opened the door but his gut already knew the answer to that. Something hadn't felt right since he woke up. The little bird stamped onto his arm had been throbbing and fluttering more than usual. Add to that the fact that Jason hadn’t answered any of the messages he had sent ahead, it left Slade to speculate if Jason had gone and done exactly what Slade had told him _not_ to do—go after Black Mask alone.

Slade didn't get nervous. Ever. But he did feel extremely unsettled as he made his way into the elevator up to their suite. The ride up to the top floor felt irritatingly slow, and Slade figured he should have simply entered through the window. Too late for that. As soon as the thought flitted through his mind, the elevator doors opened up into a short hallway.

At least the entrance to their apartment was private. Jason had made sure of that whenever he had procured the apartment and made upgrades. The safehouse wasn't glamorous by most definitions but it's interiors had been gutted of the enclosed parlours and dining rooms that were typical of roaring twenties architecture, and replaced with a more modern open-spaced plan. The apartment they occupied in particular had customized construction as well—extra soundproofing in the floors and windows, bullet-proof omnium glass panes, and several hidden weapons panels in the walls. It was subtle, but the effort made Slade think that this was perhaps intended to be more than an intermittent crashpad. Jason had chosen it for a home. That was something Slade hadn't bothered with in a very long time….

He keyed open the door and stepped into the darkened apartment to find it silent and empty. With the lights kept off, Slade made a quick circuit of the rooms, taking in the familiar environment and noting signs that indicated Jason's recent presence: a new pile of books stacked slightly askew, dishes in the drying rack by the kitchen sink, milk in the fridge that expired that day, and garbage that hadn't been taken out. Jason hadn't been home for at least a day or two but probably not much more than that.

No sign of a disturbance. Everything remained tidy and neat, the way Jason liked it. So where had his bird gone?

Slade was making his way back into the small office, where Jason kept a laptop uplinked into his cloud network, when he heard the minuscule click of a latch being turned. The cold draft that followed told him a window had just been opened. The bedroom. He marched over, ready to fight, fend, or fuck, depending on who it was. Preferably the latter if it was Jason. Maybe even all three.

Except it wasn't Jason. It was a different bird altogether.

"Grayson." There was a bit of growl in his drawl as Slade leaned against the doorframe. Dick had been an interesting diversion on occasion, if Slade was in the mood for entertainment, but that was a long time ago. Right now, Slade was still pissed that he and Batman had gotten into Jason's head.

Dick was dressed in his Nightwing garb, immediately stiffening at the sound of his name. He must not have expected anyone other than Jason because he quickly drew his escrima as he spun to face Slade. "You! Where's Jason?"

"Not here." Slade shrugged.

"But you know where he is." It wasn’t even a question. Dick had just assumed and, while that upstart arrogance was part of what made the kid amusing, at the moment it grated on Slade’s nerves. At least that answered whether or not Jason had snuck off somewhere with the bats. If Dick didn’t know, he doubted Batman would either.

"I know where he _isn’t."_ Slade turned and proceeded toward his original destination of Jason's office.

Dick followed. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’s missing, genius.” Slade paused outside the office and turned back to Dick. “How long has he been gone? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You saw him drop off the radar.”

Slade couldn't see his eyes behind the domino but judging by the way Dick cocked his head, he was looking past Slade to eye the office door lock. It was a two-factor numeric keypad and bioscanner combo. Slade remembered how Jason had spent an inordinate amount of time getting it set up with Slade’s prints as well as his own. It wouldn't be the easiest to get into, even for Nightwing.

Dick realigned his gaze so he was squarely facing Slade. “He left this apartment almost forty-eight hours ago. He didn't leave for more than a couple hours at a time for the three weeks before that, but security feeds shows he left two days ago as the Red Hood. I lost track of him when he cut into Lower Gotham.”

"He could be working a case. Deep undercover," Slade suggested. His earlier theory that Jason had gone after Black Mask seemed all the more plausible.

"If that’s true, then he may be in trouble. He's not in any condition to be working a case. Especially not undercover."

It wasn't that Slade disagreed, he had pretty much already decided he was tracking Jason down, but a few weeks of healing should have had Jason pretty functional. The way the bats were going on about it, one would think Jason was some sort of delicate flower.

"You’re underestimating him," Slade countered. "He's competent and more than capable."

Dick shook his head. "Normally I’d agree but you're overlooking how much you've emotionally compromised him. You've made him vulnerable to manipulation and he won't take the precautions he needs to if he's feeling out of control. He's already making questionable decisions because of you. You don't know him, Slade, and forcing him to be your soulmate put him in danger."

Slade sneered back at him. "Not anymore than he was in danger from the Joker. And I'd like to think that I've gotten to _know him_ pretty well." Slade drew himself up and stepped forward. He was taller than Dick by a good several inches and, once upon a time, the hypermasculine posturing used to get Dick all hot and bothered. There was a little flush of heat to the younger man's face for the barest second before Dick schooled himself back to his usual confident poise.

"Forced entanglement isn't 'getting to know' someone." Dick didn't back down. "The _real_ Jason never would have consented and you know it. I still don't trust your intentions but we're getting nowhere with this. What do you know about where Jason is?"

Slade arched a brow. "I've been out of Gotham for weeks. What makes you think I know anything? Jason might just turn up if you leave him alone."

"I know you don’t believe that," Dick called his bluff. "You wouldn’t be digging me for information if you were just going to wait it out. You’re going after him. I can tell."

"So what are you proposing?"

Dick was carefully neutral as he said his next words. "Truce. We share intel. We work together. We find Jason and we bring him back."

Interesting. It wasn't like they hadn't made deals before and Slade could more easily access information that Dick didn’t have, like Jason's plans for Black Mask. Also, truth be told Dick, was better suited for actual detective work than Slade. Plus he had resources in Gotham that could make this faster. If someone needed killing though, then Slade would step up. Dick would probably disagree but it wasn't as if Dick could actually stop him.

"Hmm," Slade considered the proposal. If Jason had actually gotten in over his head then there was no time to waste. However, even though working with Dick had its perks, if it resulted in having Batman come after him it could be more aggravation than it was worth. "Where’s Bats in all this?"

"League business," Dick replied after a pause. "I'm on point. We bring him in only if things get out of control."

Things wouldn't. Even when he'd been in scaly shorts Dick had too much pride to have to call _daddy_ in to fix his mess.

"Fine. Truce." Slade agreed. "Jason keeps an uplink in here."

He turned and punched a long string of numbers into the keypad then pressed his palm against the bioscanner on the wall. There was a hum and a succession of clicking sounds as the bolts released. The door to Jason's office swung open and Slade stepped through the threshold.

After a brief pause, Dick followed cautiously behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to get out. For some reason writing this was really slow, but the fic is done... I'm just re-editing and will post weekly. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated :)


	2. Chapter 2

Jason woke up sore, which had been the norm over the last few weeks. What wasn't normal was the enormous four-poster bed, the multitude of goose-down pillows, and the _statement decor_ that beat a sense of inferiority into anyone who couldn't measure up to the gaudy opulence. A kitschy Coolidge reproduction of dogs playing pool, overly large furniture, a gilded mirror-frame over a vanity, and mood lighting. Everything looked expensive but bordered on distasteful.

Satin sheets too. The smooth and supple material glided over Jason's bare skin as he sat up, which contrasted with the creeping unease he felt as he realized he was completely naked. Jason immediately took stock of himself. His ribs were still mildly sore but other than a few more bumps and bruises he didn't notice any other injuries. He pulled the sheets back to look down at himself… nothing looked or felt amiss but this was bad. Someone had undressed him and tucked him into bed. The last thing he remembered was Sionis activating some kind of mind-control virus before his hideous black skull-face loomed over Jason.

He couldn't suppress the cold shiver that ran through him at the memory. It made his skin crawl. At least the artificial patch that covered the wolfmark on his arm was still intact. Jason stared at it, fingers automatically reaching to feel the impressions, but he stopped himself. Sionis could be watching and Jason was pretty sure broadcasting his tie to Slade while being held hostage wasn't a good idea. That information could be used against him, or worse, it could be used against Slade. He didn't exactly want to wave around the fact that the world's deadliest assassin wasn't just his hired sword. Besides, the Red Hood didn't need protection. He didn't want to use his soulmate as a crutch. Plus, he didn't exactly know where he stood with Slade right now.

Either way, he couldn't deal with that at the moment. He couldn't let himself spiral on whether or not Slade was coming back—couldn't allow himself to drown in self-pity wondering whether the other man had given up on him. He had to focus on getting the fuck out of this situation.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ Jason admonished himself. He should have been more cautious. Admittedly, maybe he hadn't been at the top of his game. Letting himself get hijacked was a rookie mistake. The bar at the Armory had been neutral ground for _decades_ —before he was even born... but it was still a hub for Gotham's criminal denizens. It was the _last_ place he should have let his guard down.

First things first though, he had to get his ass out of bed and assess the situation. His internal clock told him it was sometime mid-morning and a glance out the curtained window confirmed it. He'd been out a few hours. Enough to be worrisome.

No sign of his helmet but his clothes and gear were laid out on a nearby table. A quick inspection showed there were a few things missing from his usual array of equipment. The emergency trackers hidden in the seams of his shirt and pants for one. His comm devices, including his burner phone, for another. His incendiaries were also gone, but his guns hadn't been tampered with as far as he could tell. Not that he could do much with them against Sionis with the techno-organic virus controlling him. His best weapon would be his wits.

He got dressed at a purposeful pace, conscious about not appearing too frantic or uncomfortable. He zipped up his tactical shirt and pants, strapped on his thigh holsters and donned his leather jacket, then made for the door. It was unlocked. No sign of hostiles, so Jason set out down a short hall that ended in an elevator. It opened as he approached and after a brief pause he got in. The car immediately started moving up. None of the buttons responded after he punched a few and, short of breaking through the elevator ceiling, there wasn't much more Jason could do but wait for the elevator to take him to where Sionis wanted him.

Needless to say, this was all some intentional design by Sionis to achieve a desired psychological effect—infusing a lack of control into every action that Jason took so that he was left feeling like a rat being led through a maze, except he knew very well that at the end there would be no reward.

There was a soft _ding_ as the elevator slowed and the doors rolled open. Jason stepped out into a large foyer to more gold gilding, swirling arabesque, and impeccably polished white marble floors. On the opposite end stood a set of ornate, brushed-metal double doors. One door stood slightly ajar. Jason moved forward to peer through.

Inside, Sionis sat leisurely at the end of an enormous (Jason was detecting a trend) wooden table laden with a spread of breakfast fare: a full slab of ham, bacon, eggs, pastries of all sorts and pieces of fruit.

"Awake at last!" Sionis set the glass he was holding down on the table, beckoning Jason to take a seat at the opposite end where there was only one other chair. "Come break the fast with me."

Sionis waited, disturbingly patient, as Jason remained where he stood. Sitting down to a meal with Black Mask wasn't exactly at the top of his list of things he wanted to do but, trapped in Sionis' little game as he was, Jason had to figure out a _play._ The best way to do that was if he could get Sionis talking. It would either give him much needed intel or time to figure out a plan. So Jason sat, sparing a moment to take in the view through the wall-to-wall windows. Their current vantage point boasted a glorious expanse of the cityscape from the northern edge of Gotham. Although, Jason recalled that he had crashed through a window on the southeastern edge the night before. That meant that Sionis had moved them to an entirely different building.

That was worthwhile intel. Jason just had to keep playing it cool until he lined up enough pieces on his gameboard to literally blow the joint. He turned back to Sionis, waiting for the other man to make his next move.

"Help yourself," Sionis waved his hand at the spread.

There was a plate loaded with food already on Jason's place setting. He looked down at it, feeling a mild pang of hunger. The last time he ate was before he'd gone to the Armory and it hadn't been very much. His appetite had been lacking recently. Besides, drinking something he shouldn't have was the reason he was in this predicament in the first place.

Jason shifted uncomfortably. His wolfmark under the artificial patch suddenly felt like it was burning. A deep throbbing heat worked its way up his arm and into the core of his torso. It verged on real physical pain and it took a concerted effort not to let it show. Even so, he couldn't help that it brought his thoughts to the time he had woken up after Slade had killed the Joker—Jason had nervously sat down at a table like this and Slade had offered him food too. Was this that different? Thinking back, he hadn’t had much of a stomach for eating back then either. He'd been just as wary, but whereas he'd felt the inexplicable force of Fate drawing him toward Slade, with Sionis, Jason felt mostly revulsion. Was the soulmark the only difference? Or was there something else about Slade that drew Jason in?

Never mind that even with a missing eye, Slade had that smoldering gaze that burned right through you, the advantage of distinctly chiseled features, and a brute-force masculinity that somehow made something inside Jason weak in a way that no one else ever had….

No. It wasn't that. Jason couldn't let himself think about that right now. This wasn’t the time to be pining after Slade, Jason chided himself. Not when he had to keep his wits about him. Being distracted with wondering where his soulmate was had panned out with him falling into Sionis’ clutches. The only other time he had failed so epically was when he had been killed by the Joker.

Jason pushed the plate away. "You'll have to forgive me for not being too keen on ingesting anymore of your technovirus-riddled food. It kinda sours the stomach, you know."

"Nonsense," Sionis' voice was filled with mock affection. "You're an asset. It would be foolish of me to let you starve." He got up from his seat and sauntered over to sit on the edge of the table beside Jason. He reached over and plucked a grape from the spurned plate and brought it to Jason's lips.

Jason clenched his teeth and kept his mouth shut.

"You're going to eat," Sionis commanded, "and you're going to listen."

Sionis pressed the grape to Jason's mouth again, squeezing it until the skin of the fruit burst. Juice spurted out in droplets as Sionis smeared the fruit along his lips.

Jason tried to resist but found himself obeying. He could see the strange purple script scrolling over the exposed skin of his arms like it did the night before when Sionis prevented Jason from shooting him. This time the virus forced him to open his mouth to taste the sweetness of the grape along his tongue. Sionis pushed it fully into his mouth.

"Eat," Sionis said again, lowering his hand to gently graze along Jason's throat as he chewed and swallowed. Sionis repeated the action with another piece of fruit as he started to talk. "This is a simple arrangement, Jason. Can I call you Jason?" Sionis didn't wait for an answer. He just pushed another piece of fruit into Jason's mouth. "You'll act as my enforcer but for the most part you can maintain your operations as the Red Hood. You'll get a twenty percent cut of the profits for the time being. If you're good, maybe even more. In the meantime nobody has to know about our little agreement."

Sionis leaned over him, running his hand down from Jason's throat to his chest, the backs of his knuckles drifting over Jason's abs, then meandering to the side to land on Jason's thigh. His soulmark was fluttering and pulsing again, as if in protest. It flared up painfully hot again when Sionis squeezed, digging his fingers into Jason's flesh so hard he was bound to leave bruises.

"Do you understand the terms?" Sionis crooned.

Jason managed to swallow and clear his throat enough to snap a retort. “You're off your rocker if you think I'm just gonna roll over and let myself get fucked over," Jason snarled. "What's with all the theatrics Roman? You could make me do whatever you wanted right now."

"I want your cooperation. I want you to make this believable. You’re more valuable to me when others are afraid of you. We both know power grows out of the barrel of a gun. The nanotech virus is just a precaution because I’m man enough to admit I probably couldn’t win if we went at it gun to gun. And at the end of the day I'm more interested in a partner. Maybe even an heir." Sionis proceeded to run his hand slowly up and down Jason's thigh, eliciting a sharp pulse from his wolfmark again.

None the wiser, Sionis kept going, pausing at the crook of Jason's groin. "I've watched you Jason. You're a kindred spirit. You want this too, you just don't know it yet."

Jason cringed internally at Sionis' suggestion. Shit. _Shitshitshit._ He'd gotten creepy vibes off the other man before but this was pretty blatant. His wolfmark was practically blaring in protest and if Slade ever showed up again he’d be furious. One saving grace of having his body controlled, purple ghosting script and all, was that he couldn't flinch away. Sionis would have seen that as a weakness and the last thing Jason needed to do was appear as any sort of easy prey. If he wanted any chance of getting out of this in one piece he'd have to keep Sionis in the game. Sionis wouldn't play unless he thought Jason was worth the challenge.

If a challenge was what Sionis wanted, a challenge was what he would get.

Jason mustered enough willpower to jerk his head up to meet Sionis' eyes. The other man stared back at him, the fleshy sockets pursed into a narrowed gaze as Jason spoke.

"Let's lay this out, Roman. You've got me over a barrel but you still want something you can't get. You want my cooperation because the virus only lets you walk me around like a marionette. It might even give you access to my resources and my reputation but not my _skills._ " Judging by the way Sionis twitched at that, Jason's supposition was right on the mark.

Emboldened, he pressed on. "If you take control of me completely you get nothing but a mindless puppet. What you really want is a criminal mastermind in your corner, not another hired thug in a gimmicky slave mask and polyester suit. So if you want to make a deal, Roman, take your fucking hand off my leg and let's talk."

It was a ballsy challenge, even for Jason. He had essentially thrown the gauntlet—not down to the floor, but straight into Sionis' face—with nothing more than a gamble on his own worth to back himself up. Jason waited with bated breath as Sionis seemed to contemplate his next move.

Finally, Sionis broke into a laugh, "Impressive! That's just the kind of gumption that makes you so interesting. It separates the kings from the pawns." He patted Jason's thigh, then released him. "I'll give you this—as a show of good faith, I might consider removing the virus after an initial trial to prove your word. But first, eat something more substantial. You're going to be here awhile."

Jason had no choice but to submit to Sionis' request. Not like he wasn't already infected anyway. At least the other man didn't try to hand feed him again. He stayed perched on the edge of the table however, until Jason had polished off a decent portion of the plate. Afterward, Sionis reached a hand out to run his fingers through Jason's hair. He gripped the strands between his curled fingers to tilt Jason's head up.

"I have to say," he said, "I was pleasantly surprised to see your face. Though I already suspected you were quite young. You're a little too brash and untamed to be some weathered old man."

Jason huffed. "Get this virus out of me and I'll show you untamed, Roman."

"Good." The connective tissue around Sionis' jaw tightened into what Jason could only assume was the approximation of a leer. Sionis released Jason's hair only to move it down to Jason's jaw once more, stroking Jason's bottom lip with his thumb. "Taming you would be quite the pleasure. I do like a _little bit of teeth."_

Sionis' last words dropped low and husky. He had leaned in closer, his hand now fiddling with the zipper at Jason's neck that opened up the front of his tactical shirt.

He moved his hands slowly but confidently, pulling the fitted neckline open just down past Jason's collarbone. Sionis ran his fingers along the hollows of Jason's throat and, to Jason's horror, he found himself reacting. Maybe it was the assertiveness that reminded him of Slade—that smug confidence that had him constantly assuming he knew what Jason wanted—or it was the virus worming it's way into Jason's neurons, or even just the simple physical broadness of Sionis frame, but Jason felt a tingle of arousal ghost over his skin.

Sionis breathed into his ear, "I could have you now and you couldn't do a thing about it."

Jason felt sick at his own body's reaction. It was amplified by the fact that the wolfmark felt like it was going to burst out of his skin and tear his arm off with its jaws. The pain of it was enough that he was able to jolt himself back into focus.

“You can take what you want right now Roman but we’ll both know you wouldn't have _earned it,"_ Jason managed to hiss through gritted teeth, mustering up a defiant glare.

_Play the game, Roman. Play the game._ Jason didn't believe in prayer but he hoped with every ounce of will that baiting Sionis' ego would buy him some more time.

"Fine," Sionis said after too long a pause. "I'll play the cat to your 'little mouse' a while longer. It will make things so much sweeter when you eventually realize that you're already mine." He got up from the table and walked to the elevator. "Come with me."

Jason felt some of the stiffness in his muscles relax, which meant he momentarily had freedom of movement by his own will. However, there wasn't much more he could do but follow. Sionis took them down several stories, Jason counted twelve, until the elevator let them out into some sort of large lab facility.

People in lab coats, holding tablets or standing at access consoles, were busying themselves about some kind of large, glass chamber. It was filled with a bubbling green liquid. Floating within the liquid was a person. A man. Dressed in a familiar looking blue suit with a red cape.

"What the hell, Roman!" Jason exclaimed. "That isn't who I think it is, is it?"

"Unfortunately, no," Sionis replied coolly, "but watch as my staff removes the clone from the chamber."

There was a hum of generators, a spark of electricity that coursed through massive coils, and the chamber began to glow. It didn't seem to go as planned though. As the clone awoke, bursting through several inches of reinforced osmium glass, it began to struggle. The familiar features of Superman began to disappear, deforming into a large, hulking form with grayish-white skin and sparse dark hair. It gasped in pain as it floundered on the floor.

Jason found himself kneeling by the clone, cradling the terrified and helpless creature to his chest. “It'll be okay, big guy. Trust me.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The clone was eventually whisked out of Jason's arms at Sionis' command but, a few hours later, Jason was summoned onto a different floor that seemed to serve as some kind of holding facility. He followed Sionis into a short hall lined on each side with omnium-glass shielded cells. Inside one to the right was a strikingly tall woman in battle gear, her exceedingly long red hair tied back in a ponytail. If Jason had to guess, he would have said she looked like an Amazon.

The opposite cell held something entirely different—the clone from earlier. He was wearing a pair of coveralls over a shirt that barely stretched over his massive, corded muscles. It was no surprise that Sionis had seen fit to have him chained. What was most alarming though, was the multiple contraptions holding his head in place and eyelids open, forcing him to watch a series of reels of none other than the most famous man in red and blue—Superman. His face bore a startlingly vacant expression. Something clicked as Jason looked back and forth between the repeating clips and the large man in coveralls.

"You're brainwashing him," Jason said aloud. He couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.

"Yes," Sionis nodded. If he was bothered at all by Jason's tone he didn't show any outward signs. "It seems my investment in this creature will not pay off. It isn't responsive to my _conditioning._ I'd like you to find a way of disposing of it without Lexcorp being able to trace back to me."

Jason gritted his teeth. A clone of Superman was incredibly dangerous, especially in the hands of someone like Black Mask, but the creature—the _man_ hunkering in the cell—he was _alive_. And even if it was just an empty shell, it had committed no crime. Jason wouldn't just put him down on Sionis' say-so.

He couldn't let on yet that he was unwilling to cooperate, however. This was a trial, and Jason was still pinned under Sionis' thumb with the virus running through him. He had to keep up the charade and play it off.

Jason refocused on getting ahold of the situation at hand. Sionis was watching him, no doubt looking for an opportunity to yank on Jason's leash, but there was the red-haired woman in the adjacent cell observing, too. An unknown factor. If she was a prisoner Jason would have to add her into the equation.

"And _her?"_ Jason jerked a thumb at the woman. "What's her story? You want me to get rid of her, too?"

Sionis shrugged. "Nonsense. She tried to interfere and now I'm holding her as a reserve investment. But I'd rather not infect her and spread my resources thin until I'm sure my first investment’s a lost cause."

"Give me a day with the clone," Jason proposed, hoping that his voice sounded a lot more confident than he felt. "I'd like to try something first. See if I can get through to him."

"Very well. I'll trust your instincts on this." Sionis stood close to him, brushing his fingers along Jason's jaw before settling a firm grip on his shoulder. Jason's wolfmark tingled in revulsion again but he kept a straight face as Sionis continued. "You have until tomorrow to deliver me results. If not, then maybe I need to rethink the uses I put you to."

With that, he casually stepped back and walked away, leaving Jason standing alone in the hall between the holding cells.

Less than twenty-four hours to free the Superman clone, the maybe-Amazon, while somehow getting himself detoxed of the virus.

Jason was well and truly fucked.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He managed to finagle slipping out for a brief moment to get some supplies and intel, though not without being escorted by Sionis himself. The man wouldn't let him too far out of sight... which indicated there was likely a limit to his radius of control.

Sionis had a car stop by a toy store to get what Jason hoped would help him breakthrough to the clone, then another stop at one of Jason's smaller vaults to access an uplink. He'd have to burn the place to the ground afterward, now that Sionis knew where it was. It was unfortunate but Jason needed to find out what he could about the clone and he couldn't hack Justice League files from just any computer. It took a few minutes, with Jason doing his best to obscure the access protocols while Sionis looked over his shoulder.

After glancing through the files it turned out Lex had used a previous incarnation during one of the Justice League altercations. A clone named Bizarro had helped save the world. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

They headed back to Sionis' building, which Jason could now see was part of a large research park in Gotham's R&D district. He tried to listen closely as Sionis took several calls, gleaning whatever information he could on Black Mask's operations. Sionis had restricted his movements again and it was all he could do to distract himself from the way Sionis rested his palm atop Jason's leg, curling his fingers to stroke along his inner thigh. The whole time, the wolfmark on his arm burned and burned.

Jason breathed a sigh of relief when they finally made it back to the holding cells and Sionis left him to his attempts to bond with the clone, Bizarro. He approached the cell carefully, a stuffed Superman doll in hand.

"It seems almost like you're trying to save this monster," the woman in the opposite cell suddenly spoke. Her voice was low and commanding. She held herself with poise and confidence and she didn't appear at all like a helpless prisoner.

"Seems that way doesn't it?" Jason gave a noncommittal shrug. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"I am Artemis." She looked down at Jason with her arms crossed and _oh boy,_ if there was ever a woman who could make Jason feel small. "You're wasting your time. That thing isn't a person. He's a monster."

"I've been written off more than once in my life." As he said it, Jason felt a mild tingling sensation from his soulmark. He reached out to cover it with his hand before he could catch himself. Artemis flicked her eyes down to note the action and Jason immediately retracted his hand. When she didn't further comment he added, "I'm betting you have too. So you'll have to forgive me if I try."

In the end, it didn't actually take much to get Bizarro to react. After giving him the Superman doll, he promptly blew out the cell with his ice-breath, smashing through the omnium-glass and nearly crushing Jason in the process. Eventually, he managed to get Bizarro to talk to the stuffed toy, which he endearingly dubbed Pup Pup. And as Bizarro lay down, curled in a fetal position beside Jason, lulled to sleep as Jason recounted the facets that he so loved of Gotham City—the dichotomy of horror and hope, people living their lives in laughter and tears, all the joy and pain and everything that was the heartbeat of the city thrumming through the chaos—he found himself touching his soulmark again. It ached and throbbed like it often did, but it also felt warm and solid somehow. The steady pulse of it slowing the anxious beat of his heart as he thought of Slade….

"Your soulmate, who are they?" Artemis' soft voice jolted Jason out of his reverie. He was still lying on his back beside the sleeping Bizarro. He turned his head to see she was crouched on the floor of her cell, leaning against the glass. Watching him.

"No one," Jason replied.

Artemis snorted, clearly unconvinced. "You've reflexively touched your arm each time you seek to reground. A soulmate isn't _no one."_

Internally, Jason kicked himself for not being able to hide such a damning tell. It had been easier when he'd been marked with the Joker. He simply never had the desire to touch the mark at all, but it was _different_ with Slade. Even though he'd been confused and torn about the way Slade had forced the karmic entanglement, even after weeks apart, he still felt a yearning for the other man. He wanted more than anything to have Slade by his side. But Slade wasn't here and it was dangerous to be so distracted, especially with Roman Sionis hovering around him like a vulture.

"Don't, Artemis," Jason hissed. Most of the cell cameras had been destroyed during Bizarro's outburst but Sionis could show up at any second. "If you know as much about being paired as you seem to, then you know there are good reasons to keep that kind of information to yourself."

"Yes, but a distracting soulmark is a liability in battle. It troubles you. Whoever it is, leave this place and go to them. Your weakness shows and a man like Black Mask will turn that against you." Artemis stood up, towering above Jason as he lay on the floor. "The Amazons have a saying. Fate does not choose one's soulmate but rather the _path_ on which two souls must converge. I know the consequences of diverging from Fate’s design all too well. Leave here, little one. This is no place for an aching heart."

Jason scowled. "That's not an option right now." He got to his feet to face Artemis eye-to-eye. She had veiled her advice in insult and condescension but underneath she was showing concern for his well-being. That was unexpected and in turn Jason feared what Sionis had in store for her—he'd said he wanted to infect her with the techno-organic virus, too. Jason couldn't let that happen. "Artemis, what are you even doing here? Something tells me you're only in that cell because you want to be."

" _Pfft._ There is not a cell in the world that can hold me." She eyed him up and down in a way that made Jason think she was trying to judge how far she could throw him. "I am looking for a weapon called the Bow of Ra. I've confirmed it is no longer here but this Bizarro creature intrigued me."

"If that's the case then–." Jason didn't finish because he heard footsteps approaching. He turned to see it was Sionis and a cadre of his goons.

His ugly skull-face was somehow stretched into a wider grin than normal as he clapped his hands. "Well done! You deserve a round of applause! You've surpassed my expectations for you, Jason." He clasped Jason's shoulder firmly as he looked down at Bizarro's sleeping form, then signaled something to his men. One of them quickly drew a syringe. It glowed an eerie green that Jason suspected was kryptonite and Jason was immediately alarmed. He stepped forward, intending to intercede, but Sionis' grip tightened on his shoulder to hold him back. The man with the syringe proceeded to plunge it into Bizarro's neck.

Jason attempted to brush off Sionis' grip but he found it difficult to move again. He looked down and saw the glowing purple script of the techno-virus running along the exposed skin of his wrist. "What's the deal, Roman? I just saved you your investment. What are you doing with him now?"

"Preparing him for infection." Sionis' men were now rolling in a gurney. "Unfortunately, the techno-organic virus won't sync with his kryptonian physiology as easily as it will yours. We'll have to inject it directly into his brain."

"No! Roman, wait!" Jason felt frantic. He had to stop this somehow. If Sionis infected Bizarro before he could get them out then it was likely they wouldn't get out at all. "He'll listen to me," he said. "Let me work with him some more!" Damn did that sound more than a little desperate.

Roman turned to him and moved to stand uncomfortably close, raising his hand to cup Jason's cheek. The action was almost tender, his thumb brushing over Jason’s lip. "That's cute, but there's no need to be sentimental, Jason. This creature is simply a weapon to be wielded."

"A weapon? Is that all you need me for too?" Jason tilted his chin up as he spoke. It wasn't exactly a pout, more of a subtle invitation for Sionis to persist with his smarmy seduction. Jason needed him to get close to let his guard down. It was working, even if it went against the very fiber of his being. His soulmark radiated a permeating prickle that turned his stomach, but he let Sionis caress his face. He let out a soft sigh as fingers traced over his lips and Sionis stepped closer, backing Jason against the wall.

"Oh, you're a weapon, certainly, but you're also much more." Sionis was standing so close Jason could see creases in the blackened tissue of his face, stretched like leather over the bone of his skull. "I've got plans for you that don't involve you running that sweet mouth of yours."

Sionis' hand drifted down Jason's side, moving behind him to stroke over the round of his ass and squeeze his buttocks. Jason briefly wondered if Sionis ever had a sense of shame because he apparently had no reservations about groping another man in front of his goons.

Regardless, Jason could feel the rigidity from the virus in his muscles receding. Sionis was relaxing his control, letting Jason squirm and twinge and twist as he cupped over Jason's groin, stroking with a firm pressure over his fly. Jason hated the way his body was reacting but he let it continue. Just a little longer… until he felt he could move his arms freely.

He punched Sionis in the jaw, the uppercut knocking him off balance. Jason followed up with a punch to the solar plexus to make sure he stayed stunned. It was a pity he couldn't simply blow off the man's head but it seemed the virus had built-in safeties that prevented him from doing anything lethal to his handler. Knocking Sionis to the floor seemed enough for the moment though and Jason whirled around, quickly shooting at Sionis' goons to disable them, then launching for the holding cell release.

Artemis was already pushing through before the doors even fully opened, holding an enormous axe that had appeared out of nowhere. "If I had to watch him groping you for another second I would have taken _both_ your heads off," she growled.

"You can take my head off later," Jason huffed as he moved to pull Bizarro up while trying to rouse him from sedation on the floor. He was too heavy for Jason to carry but probably not for an Amazon like Artemis. "Take Bizarro and run."

Artemis followed his cue and hauled Bizarro up. "What about you?"

"I'm probably the one you need to run from." Jason could feel it already, the stiffness in his frame, a tingling over his skin. The next thing he knew he was raising a gun at Artemis, his hand trembling as he attempted to resist. He worked his jaw until he could stutter his next words, "Take… him. G-et… out."

"Kill that bitch!" Sionis yelled from behind him and Jason couldn't stop himself from opening fire. His hand was unsteady, however, as he fought against Sionis' control. The shot went wide.

Artemis easily dodged, setting Bizarro's dazed form down before she then rounded on Jason. "As you seem to be fighting against your will, I will refrain from permanently damaging someone as fragile as you."

Jason resumed fire, his aim becoming true as he felt Sionis re-exerting his grip. He felt strangely detached as he watched himself volley round after round, flipping and blocking as Artemis maneuvered around him. Sionis was getting better at his control, somehow tapping into Jason's ingrained fighting skills to be enough of an obstacle that Artemis couldn't immediately flee while carrying Bizarro.

Sionis had none of Jason's tactical prowess, however, and he was soon overpowered by Artemis' immense strength and skill. She used the butt of the axe haft to jab Jason in his ribs, which were still tender from the bruising several weeks back, and he reflexively doubled over. Before he could recover she backhanded him in the face. Even though he was pretty sure she was pulling her punches, it still felt like getting hit with a brick. Jason fell to the ground, his vision flashing stars.

He may have blacked out after that, because the next thing he felt was consciousness seeping back into a body full of aches and pains. A groan slipped out of his throat as he waited for his head to slowly stop spinning. He rolled over and pushed himself up to his hands and knees as his vision regained clarity. Before he could get up any further, Jason felt a firm hand grip his hair, jerking his face up until he was looking into the shriveled sockets that held Sionis' eyes.

"I'm disappointed, Jason." Sionis was crouched before him, "I was looking forward to our partnership but maybe it's better if we both stop playing games."

Sionis yanked hard on Jason's hair until he stumbled up to his feet. The hall they were standing in, between what remained of the holding cells, was a mess of broken glass shards and bullet-pocked metal. Sionis' grunts were still on the floor, but there was no sign of Bizarro or Artemis. Jason hoped that meant they had gotten away.

"Come," Sionis barked and Jason felt himself limping after the man as he made his way toward the elevator. They got in, Jason feeling woozy and sore. He was having trouble keeping his train of thought and it occurred to him he probably had a concussion. His sense of time grew hazy, but eventually the elevator doors opened and Sionis dragged him out by the arm, leading him down several turns of a hallway until he was being shoved unceremoniously through a door.

Jason stumbled until he fell forward onto smooth, polished marble. His hand brushed against something metallic that shifted with a _clink._ It was a chain connected to a set of shackles bolted to the floor. At first he thought Sionis had brought him to another holding cell but the room had floor-to-ceiling windows like one would find in an office suite. It was no ordinary workspace, however. As Jason looked up, he took in the belted tables and leather-covered benches, the large St. Andrew’s Cross that stood against the wall, and the sling that swayed in a deceptively gentle arc from cable rigging hung from the ceiling.

It took a few moments for Jason's jumbled brain to catch up and realize what the purpose of the room was. This was bad. _Very bad_.

He rolled over onto his back and saw Sionis standing over him, shucking his suit jacket and throwing it aside before beginning to loosen his tie.

"Strip," he said, sliding the knot from his throat.

Jason's body moved of its own accord to obey, pushing himself up to pull off his jacket. His heart began to pound and his breath grew irregular as he began to panic. His soulmark burned so hot it felt like it would sear through his arm. He tried to scream. He tried to tell Sionis to fuck off but no words came out. Instead he found himself disarming, hands shaking with strain as he tried to resist, but he couldn't stop. He pulled off his shirt, then undid his belt, before scooting out of his pants and undershorts until he was completely naked on the floor.

Sionis grabbed him by the hair and dragged him until he was pushed backwards onto a table. His wrists and ankles were promptly fastened with a set of restraints, and then Sionis slowly crawled over him until his arms and legs were bracketed over Jason's motionless body. Jason stared up in horror. There was no question what Sionis wanted to do.

He didn't want this, and if he could have, he would have recoiled as Sionis traced his hands along Jason's chest and up to graze his jaw. Sionis' movements were slow and teasing. He took his time shoving his fingers into Jason's mouth, slicking his digits with Jason's spit then moving them to flick over his nipples.

"N… no," Jason barely managed a strained gasp.

Sionis ignored him. He just ground his hips down until Jason could feel the hardness of Sionis' erection through the material of the man's trousers. The wolfmark on Jason's arm spiked with pain and he tried to detach by thinking of Slade—pretending it was him, remembering all the times Slade had caressed and soothed him, how his devastatingly lethal hands were firm and deliberate, expertly bringing him pleasure and release—but Jason ultimately failed at deceiving himself.

Sionis' hideously ruined face filled too much of his vision. The fingers in his mouth tasted too much of bitterness and salt. The hands pinching and groping him were too deliberately rough, verging on painful. Sionis stroked the tip of Jason's sensitive glans until Jason shuddered and gasped. The sensations were overwhelming but his body still reacted. He felt himself growing hard as Sionis continued to pull and push and prod until he dragged an erection out of him. Jason struggled weakly, desperately fighting the control over his body.

"Relax, Jason.” Sionis placed a firm hand on Jason’s thigh. “We've got all night." He suddenly stepped out of Jason's field of vision. Jason tried to track his movements, but his mind kept drifting back to Slade of all things.

Slade, who had been pushy and rough; who may have crossed a line a time or two but nothing like this. Being with Slade had ultimately felt good and, the one time Jason had refused, Slade had stopped. He had let Jason say no, even if it left him grumpy and unsatisfied. Even if it had ended in a blowout fight and Jason had stalked off to almost accidentally get himself killed. Forced soulmark or not, Jason wanted Slade like no other. One thing he knew for sure was that he didn't want this from Roman Sionis.

If Jason could have moved he would have scraped off the skin patch covering the wolfmark flaring in heat on his arm. If he could have spoken he would have screamed that Sionis was good as dead if Slade ever came back because, even though outing their karmic entanglement was a dangerous liability, and even with his soulmate in absentia, the threat of Deathstroke might have carried enough weight for Sionis to back off.

As it was, Jason could only manage a broken whine as Sionis moved into view again. In his hand he held a pair of forceps and a long needle.

"It was always going to end like this, Jason." Sionis used the forceps to pinch Jason's left nipple, then the metallic coldness of a needle press against the sensitive bud. "I told you earlier, you were already mine." He shoved the needle through and Jason held his breath at the bite of pain. Sionis tugged none-too-gentley as he inserted a ring through the newly pierced flesh. He repeated the act on the other side, then stroked his thumbs in small circles over the reddened nubs, now overly-sensitive from recent abuse. Jason gasped at the sensation, a confusing mix of pain and pleasure swept over him as his cock twitched to attention.

Sionis laughed. "I told you, you want this too. You just didn't know it. And I may have let you believe that there were limits to my control over you. There isn't. I just needed time for the virus to fully integrate.” He pulled something from his pocket–a long dark strip of leather decorated with metal studs. A collar. He fastened it around Jason’s neck, tightening it so that Jason could feel the constant pressure against his throat.

“You’re mine, Jason.” Sionis stroked his thumbs along where the collar was pressed flush against his skin. “Now, let's begin this partnership, shall we?"

Sionis leaned closer, pressing his teeth and tongue against Jason's lips in a horrific kiss, Jason could only scream inside his own mind–

_Slade, where the fuck are you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: If you noticed the settings and some dialogue seem familiar, yes, I'm riffing a bit off the beginning of RHATO Rebirth for Jason's interactions with Roman, Biz and Artemis. This isn't meant to be a retelling, but just my spin on how Jason gets tangled with Black Mask.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos always welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

After they had agreed to their truce, Slade let Dick into Jason's office where he proceeded to access the uplink. Jason would probably throw a fit once he found out but it was something Slade would deal with later. As it turned out though, Dick didn't have to do much digging. Jason had left two clues for Slade: one for where he'd been before he disappeared and one for where he'd gone. Once decrypted, it translated to the black market watering hole known as the Armory and an office tower on the south side.

They went to the office tower first, as it would have the most recent clues to Jason's whereabouts.

Dick led the way, grappling out the window to the roof where a small hovercraft had been idling. Air travel was a convenience that Slade was glad to take advantage of. Not that he couldn't 'fly' around Gotham on a series of cable lines if he really wanted to, but it wasn't as expedient as the Bats made it look. At this time of night it would be faster to take a car and even faster to take an aircraft.

As soon as they arrived at the office tower, Dick opened the hatch and flipped himself down the short distance from the hovercraft to the roof. It wasn't more than a twenty foot drop but he still twirled an airy flourish that ended in a feather-light landing.

Slade simply hopped out after him. He supposed it was never a dull moment with the first Boy Wonder. Despite Slade still feeling mildly pissed at the other for interfering between him and Jason, at the moment Slade didn't intend the thought as a denigrating valuation. On the contrary, in fact. He’d always found Dick Grayson to be intriguing—from his unmatched natural agility and grace to his keen strategic mind and fighting skills—he was unparalleled among his peers in sheer versatility, allowing him to improvise and adapt in ways that even Batman couldn't. Dick Grayson had the potential to be a truly worthy adversary. Or even a partner.

At least Slade had thought so for a time, when he was under the impression that Dick was his unexpressed karmic partner. It was unfortunate that Batman had trained Dick to hold back, and no amount of Slade's _encouragement_ seemed to sway him from intentionally handicapping himself. Their one tussle in bed had been one of his better conquests too, but it was all water under the bridge at this point as far as Slade was concerned. There was a more important matter at hand: finding the person who did actually bear his mark. Jason.

They slipped in through a roof access and headed down onto the main floor of Sionis' offices. According to Jason's earlier research, the newly leased suites housed the administrative operations of Janus Industries, the legitimate enterprises of Sionis' empire. The offices had emptied out for the night and Dick quickly used Jason's recently accessed floor plans to head over to one of the executive suites.

He left Dick to it. While there was an occasional odd job that involved Slade stealing secured files after making a hit, Dick had more of the expertise here in terms of hacking computers for clues. Slade went instead to explore the row of conference rooms that lined the east side of the building. The first room didn't bear fruit. Just a small round table with a polycom. The second room, however, smelled of fresh paint. It held a long polished wood table with ten or so chairs neatly pushed flush with the table. Everything looked brand new. Too new. Like no one had even had the chance to pull a chair out and sit down. Slade circled around to the window. The caulk sealing the joints still smelled like lingering vinegar. It hadn't fully cured yet, which meant the window had recently been replaced.

Slade looked out the new window and spied the ledge of the adjacent building. It was a good distance for grappling. Just high enough to swing downward, with enough velocity to blow the window inward if it was hit hard enough. Slade could see the scenario in his mind's eye—Jason crashing through the window into a room full of surprised occupants. Perhaps including Sionis. There would have been glass everywhere, the table and chairs overturned and, knowing Jason, he would have hit hard enough to cause some kind of environmental damage.

However, something else must have happened because, if Jason had dealt a crippling blow, Sionis wouldn't have had the wherewithal to cover up the scene to make it look like nothing happened. The situation seemed to indicate the opposite. Sionis had somehow gotten a leg up on Jason, and Slade needed to know how and why.

He marched back out to where Dick was seated in one of the offices. He was tapping at his wrist device and looking back at the computer he was linked to, doing some sort of analysis.

"Red Hood was definitely here," Slade stated as he stopped at the threshold of the door. "Sionis already cleaned up. Let me know if you figure out where that bastard took him. I'm going to the Armory to see what I can find."

Dick paused from his work and immediately stood up. "No. We stick together."

"If you're trying to keep me on a leash, it's not going to work." Irritation bubbled up. Dick and his damn morals. It was clear that he wanted to keep Slade within sight to stop him from doing something that went against Dick's tenets. "I agreed to a truce because this is faster than working at odds, but Black Mask is going to get what's coming."

"Our priority is finding Red Hood and getting him to safety," Dick insisted.

"Not disagreeing with that," Slade grumbled, "but we're wasting time here. Sionis knew someone would come looking and cleaned his tracks."

"Fine. I'll run the analysis remotely to see if we can get any links to other locations. Let's go." Dick tapped a few more commands to wrap up before he followed Slade to their exit. They retraced their steps until in short order they were back up on the roof. Slade should have figured Dick wasn't going to let the conversation drop, though, because as soon as the hatch to the hovercraft sealed shut Dick started in on him.

"Why are you doing this, Slade?" Dick was frowning, brows knitted in consternation so that it crinkled the lines of his domino mask. "Why go through all this trouble? What's in it for you?"

"I don't owe you any explanation, Grayson."

"Yes, you do," Dick said sharply. He'd dropped his easygoing facade to let anger and condemnation seep into his bearing. That was one of the interesting things Slade had noted about him early on—he could be expressive without losing control. "If you're using him as some kind of leverage, as some kind of weapon in whatever ploy you're involved in, or if you're keeping him like some kind of pet, then I can't let that happen. Even if Jason says he wants this now, the fact still stands that you coerced him into karmic entanglement. I could even argue that it's tantamount to _rape_ but Jason denies that's what it was.”

“You better stop right there before I cut your tongue out,” Slade spat. If it were anyone other than Dick, the suggestion of rape was enough that Slade would have gutted them. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Jason isn’t any more unwilling than you were that time I had _you_ screaming my name on your back.”

“That was different,” Dick threw back. He was clenching his jaw, his words tight from capping his temper. “We were never paired, as much as you wanted to make me think that we were. That’s how I know what a manipulative bastard you can be. Jason’s too deeply under the influence of the soulmark to see how much you’ve conditioned him. He might even think he’s in love with you, so much that he’s not likely to walk away from you no matter how much we want him to. And if you hurt him, I'll see you put in Blackgate if it's the last thing I do.”

“Save the shovel talk for someone who thinks you’re actually a threat,” Slade would have laughed if he wasn't so pissed at Dick for his meddling. “You’ve got your own entanglement to worry about. Stop butting into mine.”

It dawned on Slade that this was the real reason Dick had proposed a truce. Sure, they weren’t wasting time beating each other down, but Dick could have hacked into Jason’s files without Slade’s help and investigated on his own. Dick was policing him—trying to keep Slade from killing—but he was also using their momentary alignment to try and dig into Slade’s intentions around Jason.

“Do you love him?" Dick demanded.

The words hung thick in the air. It felt suffocating. More like an accusation than a question and Slade bristled, a snarl working its way out of his throat.

He cut it off with a derisive snort, "You're a fool, Grayson. All you need to know is we're paired and if you or Batman ever try and get between us again, I'll kill you both. You have my word on that."

Dick didn't even flinch. "You didn't answer my question."

"Yes, I did." Slade wanted to throttle him. “I’ll take care of what’s mine. End of story.”

"Oh, really?” Dick saw an opening and he went for it. “Then why did you abandon him?"

“I didn’t _abandon_ him. I took a job and I left him in Gotham because _you_ idiots didn’t give me a fucking choice.” This time, Slade whipped his hand out and grabbed Dick by the gullet before he could react. He squeezed and pulled Dick forward half out of his seat. “He wouldn’t leave because you and Batman started spouting all that garbage. You fucked him up in the head and if I'd tried to drag him with me he would have run."

Slade released him, shoving him backward into his seat before Dick could tase Slade with his escrima. Dick coughed but quickly regathered to counter any further attacks. Slade thought briefly about giving him a proper beat down but in the end he didn’t bother. They'd end up blowing out of the hovercraft and they would just be wasting even more time. Dealing with Dick's sanctimony made him tired but judging by the way Dick watched him warily, escrima still at the ready, Slade had gotten the point across. Dick stayed tense, keeping a hand poised over the hovercraft controls.

"If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead, Grayson," Slade muttered as he slumped back into his seat.

Dick narrowed his eyes but dropped his guard as well. He looked resigned when he finally spoke. “I thought Jason would come around if I gave him space, but he didn't. He shut me out. Batman too. Maybe we all screwed up and now Black Mask has him. For all we know he could be hurt. Or worse.”

“I'd know if it was worse.” The throbbing of Slade's robin-mark wouldn’t be spiking like it had over the last few days if Jason had died. He was most certainly alive... but he was in trouble.

“How do you know?” Dick looked sincerely worried, his lips pressed thin, the corners of his mouth canted down.

“I know." Slade pressed his hand over the sleeve of his Ikon suit. He could feel the impressions even now, though faint. Soulmarks didn’t necessarily dissipate upon the death of a partner—Slade had kept his robin-mark throughout Jason’s previous death and resurrection—but now that they were reciprocated, the karmic impressions were always present, sometimes without him touching the mark.

“You can feel him?” Dick looked unconvinced.

Slade brought his hand away from the robin nestled in the crook of his arm. “You know how a soulmark works, Grayson. Pairing means reciprocation.”

“I guess…" Dick paused and shook his head at himself before turning back to Slade. He looked grim. "I guess I didn’t want to believe it.”

Slade didn't respond and Dick finally dropped it. It seemed neither of them felt like talking anymore.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

They ended up swinging by Jason’s safehouse again to sync Dick’s dataload and pick up supplies before heading to the Armory. By the time they were making their way down to the blackened door hidden deep in lower Gotham, Slade had cooled off and most of the tension between him and Dick had subsided. That was another thing about Dick, he had his more explosive moments of anger and outrage but he compartmentalized quickly. He could put the emotions away and get back to business if the situation demanded it. That was what made him so easy to work with.

What was less easy was the fact that sometimes Slade thought Dick made questionable choices. Like now.

"You look ridiculous, Grayson," Slade grumbled. Dick was wearing a hideous fake mustache that was reminiscent of Tom Selleck in his Magnum P.I. heyday—not that Dick would even know who that was. That and the over-dark sunglasses that made him look as if he'd just come from having his eyes dilated at the optometrist. The overall effect was not exactly subtle.

"Hey, it's the only thing Jason had on hand at the safehouse for a disguise." Dick shrugged in an attempt to settle the too-large jacket he'd borrowed from Jason's closet more properly on his shoulders. "I didn't exactly have time to run home and get a better one."

Unfortunately, it would have to do for now. Dick had slipped various pieces of Jason's clothing over his suit but none of them fit quite right since Jason was taller and broader. It made Dick look like a slob. With the glasses and mustache hiding his attractive features, he looked more like a used car salesman than a vigilante in disguise. He looked stupid, but it did give him a better good chance of blending into the crowd they were targeting. After all, Nightwing couldn't exactly waltz into the Armory without the whole place literally going up in arms.

It was easy enough to gain entry into the less than savory establishment with Deathstroke in full gear and mask. His reputation spoke for itself and it paved the way for Dick to trail in behind him with Slade's jerk of a thumb and a simple, "He's with me."

Once inside, they split up. Dick took a seat at the bar, slouching over the counter and ordering a pint on tap. He didn't drink the foaming brew but let it sit as he turned to lean his back against the counter to observe the small room. Slade left Dick to surveil as he made his way into the back room. He found that, as expected, the Armory was well stocked though prices were on the high side. They were almost double what Slade had paid when he'd been prepping to take the hit on the Red Hood.

"There a shortfall in 50 cal cartridges all of a sudden?" Slade inquired. "What's with the prices?"

"Been a lot of consolidation goin' on with suppliers." The clerk was an ancient looking man with creases so deep his skin practically folded into itself. He didn't even twitch at the question, having likely been fielding constant gripes from the gamut of Gotham goons since the dawn of time. "Word has it you and the Red Hood blew out the Penguin's shipment. Black Mask is our main dealer 'til someone scratches out new turf. Reap what you sow."

"Hmm," Slade grunted. Black Mask was monopolizing rather quickly, and that was exactly the sort of lead Jason had been looking for. Something was definitely up at the Armory and, against Slade's advice, Jason had definitely come looking for Sionis on his own. Slade left the back rooms and returned to the bar to take a seat by Dick.

Before Slade even sat down beside him, Dick was signaling to the bartender. "An IPA for my boss here," he said, a thick Gotham inflection suddenly snagging his vowels.

The bartender nodded and gave Slade a subtle sidelong glance, then reached into a drawer for a glass, turning back to the tap to draw down a draught. Dick watched him out of the corner of his eye and Slade did too. The bartender pulled from the tap as one would expect. From the outside nothing seemed untoward, but Slade could tell Dick had noticed something.

The bartender set the glass down just as Dick picked up his own. "Come on, boss," he got up from his seat. "Let's talk." He nodded toward a corner table where the glasses from it's precious occupants remained uncleared. Slade picked up his glass and followed.

Dick maneuvered so that he had his back to the room, evidently trusting Slade to signal if there was a threat. That was yet another advantage of working with someone like Dick. When he teamed up, he instinctively knew how to play to the other's strengths without downplaying his own. So while Slade watched his back, Dick set about sampling the glass.

It was fascinating watching Dick work. With his tendency to play-by-ear, his deceptively friendly charm, and his constant nonsensical banter, it was easy for Slade to see how his opponents often underestimated him. In reality, he had all the training and discipline of Batman, which included sharing his mentor's talents for detective work. He supposed Jason did too but he hadn't worked with Jason in such a capacity yet.

With his back blocking his movements, Dick deftly switched Slade's glass with his own, quickly pouring out half the contents into one of the empty glasses on the table. He then drew a small vial of the liquid with a syringe and put a droplet into his gloved hand.

"Huh," Dick furrowed his brow after a moment. "The sensors in my glove are detecting an electrical current. It's barely registering, but it's there. I'm guessing some kind of nanotech, or maybe something techno-organic."

"What does it do?"

"Don't know. We'd need something more than field analysis for that. I’ve seen things like this used for tracking or as some kind of biological weapon.”

“Or mind control,” Slade supplied. He’d seen things like this before as well, and if he were out to infect someone like the Red Hood, that would be the most strategic and advantageous move.

“Yeah, mind control." Dick was scowling. It was how Slade felt too. Dick was suggesting sophisticated tech and that meant a slew of scientists, highly specialized R&D and production, which in turn meant money and power. Lots of it. Product like this wasn't something that could be easily mass distributed. Whoever had supplied them had probably specifically targeted the Red Hood.

A cloud of rage was building. The fact that someone had gone after Jason was enough to earn their head a spot on a pike next to the Joker’s but now they had targeted Slade too... Whoever had the gall was going to get some _special attention._

Slade kept himself controlled as he looked at Dick, "How'd you know?" Slade hadn't noticed the bartender drop anything into the drink. Jason was no fool but if he had let his guard down even slightly he might not have noticed it either.

"I didn't, but I was looking for a break in pattern. He got your glass from a different shelf than he did for mine," Dick replied. "The glass is probably coated with some kind of transmission agent. He must have figured you were an opportunity he couldn't pass up for his employer."

Slade was pretty sure he knew who that employer was. Jason had been gunning for Sionis but Sionis got to Jason first. He must have been planning something like this for a while. Slade remembered the way Sionis had looked at Jason during their last encounter and the burning rage flared again. He was about to get up and storm at the bartender when he saw another man approach—one of Sionis' halfwit lackeys in a gimp mask.

"Excuse me–" he started, but in the next split second Slade was throttling him against a wall.

"Where can I find your boss?" Slade growled, the full force of fury he felt for Sionis now directed at the man. "Tell me before I snap your neck."

Dick was immediately up on his feet. "Easy there chief, let 'im talk." He was still in character but Slade could hear the attempt at a warning in his voice. Dick's so-called moral code once again interfering with the practicality of the situation.

Still, it was true that information was more easily had when a body could talk so Slade threw the man to the ground and pressed the side of his face into the floor with his boot. All around them the occupants of the room were drawing their weapons.

"Hey, this is neutral ground!" The bartender produced a shotgun from under the counter and Slade laughed. As if a simple buckshot would do any good against Deathstroke.

"It ain't neutral ground if you serve spiked beer," Slade sneered.

With a flick of his wrist, he pulled a dagger sheathed in his sleeve and aimed it straight for the man's jugular. It would have hit if Dick didn't suddenly jump in to catch it. At the same time, Dick clocked the bartender with his elbow and ripped the shotgun from his hands. Dick twirled the knife once between his fingers and redirected it at the fluorescent tube lights in the ceiling. The room when dark with the shattering of glass and all around them shots went off as the panicked thugs fired blindly. Dick quickly subdued them—stripping out of the borrowed clothes to reveal the Nightwing suit underneath—just as a set of emergency lights blinked on. Slade just kept his boot on the first thug that had approached him.

"We're wasting time," Slade groused.

"You know my rules!" Dick cracked his fist against the jaw of one of the goons who tried to tackle him. "I'll secure the other rooms. Get what you can out of your guy kissing the floor," he added, and Slade knew the implication was to do so without killing him.

Dick was really starting to move beyond grating. Slade was irked enough that his frayed nerves were verging on snapping. With lowlifes like these, Jason would have been flexible enough that he probably wouldn’t have fussed if Slade bled a few of them out. Clearly, Dick thought otherwise but it was another thing Slade would deal with later. At the moment he went for expediency. He pulled another knife from his belt and stabbed it into the meat of the man's thigh.

"D-don't kill me!" The man squealed and flicked something out from his shaking fingers. "I was supposed to give you this. He said tomorrow night!"

Slade took the card. It had the same address as the office tower they had just visited. So that confirmed this was how Sionis had baited Jason then. Slade didn't know what had possessed Jason to go. He must have known it was a trap but he probably didn't realize he'd been co-opted by a mind control agent yet. Either way, the sooner Slade flayed Sionis the better.

"Tomorrow’s not good enough.” Slade yanked the knife from the man's leg and pressed it to his throat. “Where's Black Mask now?"

"I don't know! I swear," The man sobbed. "I just do what he tells me."

"Try a little harder,” Slade pressed the knife against the man’s neck cutting in just enough to draw blood. “Where else has your boss been the last couple days?”

“He– he has a l-lab,” the man stuttered. “North side, by the old port. I’ve never been there but he’s been talking about it!”

“That’s better but not good enough.” He was about to turn the tip of the knife to gouge into the man's neck—a little more motivation to spill his guts—but a wire suddenly wrapped around Slade's forearm. The knife was wrenched away and sent flying with a _clang_. Slade turned to see Nightwing had thrown a batarang line at him.

Dick yanked on the line still wrapped around Slade’s arm. “You’re not killing anyone while in Gotham. I called truce but I won’t bend on this.”

“I’ve had about enough of you bloviating about your rules,” Slade tugged back hard on the line so that Dick lost his leverage, forcing him to let go of the other end. Slade took the opportunity to close the gap between them, intending to pin him against the wall but Dick had already twisted and slipped out of range.

There was a scrambling sound behind him and Slade saw the henchman he'd just roughed up making a run for it. Slade lunged after him, following him out the exit and into the alleyway, catching the man by the collar of his jacket and then swinging him face first into a wall. He crumpled to the floor, face a bloody mess, but still breathing.

"There," Slade nudged the now unconscious man with his foot as Dick appeared behind him. "Still alive. Now can we get back to business?"

“That was excessive,” Dick bent down to check his pulse but stood up again when he validated what Slade said was true. “I’ve called for an ambulance. The police will be here soon. We’d better move.”

Dick backflipped and sprung into the air, shooting out a grapple line that had him quickly flying upward in an arc. Within seconds he was up at the roofline and heading toward where the hovercraft lay waiting. Slade engaged his own line to follow suit. Not his favorite way of getting around but that was pretty much how Dick and the rest of the bats ever went anywhere in this godforsaken city. It reminded Slade of the games he and Dick used to play, with Slade giving chase as Dick flitted about the night in ridiculously bright yellow, red and green. Dick took to the air whenever he could—nearly impossible to pin down, flying too high on what Slade only realized later was an updraft of moral arrogance.

As expected, Dick whirled on him as soon as Slade touched down on the rooftop. "We keep this non-lethal, Slade. When we find Jason, we take Black Mask down but we don’t kill him. Give me your word."

Slade simply crossed his arms. “No. Fuck your moral code." He mentally added a point in Jason’s favor. His bird wouldn’t have droned on and on about this, even if he did want Slade to back off.

Dick was still insistent. “ _Slade,”_ he had his fists clenched, as if that would somehow make a difference.

Slade had about enough of Dick’s posturing. "We don’t have time to stand here and pretend that you’ve got any leverage to negotiate. Do you want to hear what I got from Black Mask's mook or not?"

Dick let out a small curse under his breath at being thwarted but unless he wanted to take Slade on in a fight, Dick had nothing to hold over him.

"Fine,” Dick huffed. “What did you get?"

“North side. Cross reference it with Jason’s list for labs or research facilities.”

“Got it," Dick said after he punched a few codes into his wrist computer. "There’s an R&D park that Sionis leased a few months ago. A lot of big shipments from industrial equipment and biochemicals." He brought up a small projection, pointing at the location on a map.

Slade noted the locations and touched his soulmark. It was burning hot as he focused on the dot on the map. “He’s there."

Dick looked skeptical. "There's no way you can get that from a karmic impression."

"I know he’s there." Slade climbed up the edge of the hovercraft, knocking on the canopy for Dick to hit the release. "Let’s go.”

Dick opened the hatch and they got in. As Dick entered their destination, he turned to Slade, "If your karmic entanglement is as strong as you’re suggesting, then your priority is Jason. If you try to kill Sionis, I'll do everything I can to stop you.”

Slade didn’t answer. It was probably the millionth time he’d heard it from Dick at this point. Instead, he found his thoughts drifting back to Jason. He was flighty too, but in a different sense than Dick. Jason ran when he got spooked, but he'd only run so far before he turned around and tried to kick your teeth in. He didn’t fly into the unblemished blue skies that Dick was forever chasing. He stuck closer to the ground, even if it meant he ended up in the dirt.

 _Like a phoenix without the fire and fanfare,_ Jason had once said, which wasn’t entirely true. He had plenty of fire and you were liable to get scorched if you clutched him too tightly. Slade still found Dick interesting after all these years, even intriguing, but if it was a choice between chasing rainbows and getting a face full Jason’s flaming temper, Slade found he preferred the burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd be curious to know what people think so far...? Please leave a comment and let me know.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this so far. Now is also a good time to reread those tags/warnings!

Jason battled down the wave of nausea that threatened to boil over in his gut as his body moved to Sionis’ whims. After Sionis had pierced him and strapped the collar around his neck, he had Jason outfitted in a humiliating assemblage of leather—thick studded straps criss-crossing his chest in a large X. More wrapped around his thighs like some mockery of his holsters and some kind of ridiculous jock strap that covered his genitals but left his buttocks fully exposed. Then, Sionis stuffed a black rubber ball gag into his mouth, securing it tightly with a buckle around the back of his head. The final indignity had Jason chained and bent over a bench, his legs spread out and fastened to the frame with his hands tied behind his back.

Sionis stood behind him, out of view, running his hands over the bare skin of Jason’s ass before grabbing each cheek and spreading him apart. Jason roared in fury around the gag, bucking and twisting violently against his restraints until he felt pinpricks of numbness along his limbs. He was starting to recognize the feeling of Sionis pushing into his mind through the virus. That, and the brief glimpses of glowing purple script that kept ghosting over his skin. Jason felt his muscles relaxing as the sensation of Sionis’ invading presence crept over him. His thoughts grew hazy, a cloudiness that occluded his natural progression of thought, replacing his urge to fight with an overwhelming desire.

He felt hot and his heart was hammering in his chest. It was hard to breath as he lolled his tongue around the gag in his mouth to take in more air. He felt his cock stirring in the confines of the leather straps as he squirmed… as fingers kneaded and stroked along his crevice, teasing just along the rim of his hole. It felt… it felt _good._ It felt like he wanted it. It felt like he _needed_ it. He let out a moan as he flexed his hips and rubbed his growing erection down against the bench, as he arched back as much as he could to feel those rough hands petting all along his buttocks and lower back.

Jason’s world dwindled down to the sensation of pleasure coursing through him. Everything else seemed unimportant… it suddenly didn’t seem to matter that he was tied down, that he’d been infected with an agent that robbed him of his will, that the man behind him was none other than the sadistic crime lord known as Black Mask. Jason just wanted to feel more of those hands on him, maybe even inside him. If Sionis would just open him up with those thick calloused fingers and fill that intensely unbearable emptiness inside him. If Sionis would just _enter_ him… pull out his cock and fuck Jason until he cried. It felt like he’d never wanted anything more in his life… except… there was a painful throbbing growing more and more intense in his arm. It felt like a white hot fire, stabbing deeper and deeper, emanating outward until it wiped away the feeling of arousal with pain.

It was the wolfmark. His _soulmark._ Shit. Had he just been thinking that he wanted Sionis to fuck him?

Jason realized that the virus must have been steering him—corraling his thoughts and sensations into a swirl of all-consuming desire. Sionis hadn’t lied about the virus’ ability to take root, and if this went on any further Jason wasn’t sure he’d be able to fight back. If it hadn’t been for the jarring pain of his soulmark resisting the compulsion of the virus, Jason would have likely succumbed.

“Fight all you want, Jason,” Sionis pinched hard at the meat of Jason’s rear, “I find I rather enjoy the challenge.” The groping hands retreated and before Jason could contemplate the implications of what Sionis’ words meant, something smacked against the round of his cheeks that left him smarting.

_Thwack._

It came down hard again, a thick cord of something whipping against his buttocks. It felt like a belt.

_Thwack. Thwack. Thwack._

Jason sucked in a breath, stifling a cry of pain as Sionis continued to rain down blows. Jason cringed and recoiled in his bindings but it was all he could do with the virus subjugating the movement of his limbs.

Sionis moved the lashes up to Jason’s back, bringing down the belt harder, something heavier and solid at the end of it—the metal buckle—ripping into his flesh and drawing blood. The pain of it grew until Jason couldn’t suppress the weak whimpers that escaped his throat. He clamped down around the gag and tried to distract himself from the pain, but the most horrifying aspect was that each strike was accompanied by a surge of arousal. Sionis was still pushing into Jason’s psyche and exerting control over his entire being. The rush of desire conflicted with the bite of leather at his back, but even with the sting of his soulmark once again throbbing on his arm, Jason was helpless to escape it.

Sionis moved to Jason's side and tangled his fingers in Jason’s hair, yanking his head up so that he was craning upward. “You just love to be punished don’t you, baby?”

Jason strained against Sionis’ hold and tried to shake his head in protest, but he was finding it hard to form a clear thought. Every crack of the belt upon his back brought a new mix of pain and pleasure, drowning him in an onslaught of sensation that threatened to tear him asunder in a terrible tug-of-war. Eventually the physical ache of arousal began to win and a desperate moan escaped him as Sionis brought the belt upon his bloodied back once more.

“You’re a slut for this, aren’t you? Don’t lie to me baby. I can tell.” Sionis’ voice sounded gruff and raw. He was in front of Jason now, the bulge in Sionis’ fly drawing immediate attention as he ran his fingers under Jason’s jaw.

Jason felt the heat of shame in his cheeks, because it _did_ feel like he wanted this. He was rock hard underneath all the studded straps and leather despite the agony of his flagellated back. Even the stabbing protest of his soulmark wasn’t enough to overcome the haze of desire that had permeated his mind and body. He wanted Sionis to touch him. He needed it like a man dying of thirst.

The buckle around his head was suddenly removed and the ball gag pulled out from his aching jaw. A word spilled from Jason’s mouth before he could stop it, “Please…”

“Please what?” Sionis had a hand in his hair again, dragging his face up, using his other hand to thumb at Jason’s bottom lip.

“I need…” Jason was panting so hard his chest was heaving. What did he want? He wanted to run. He wanted to be released. He also wanted to be fucked so hard he couldn’t stand. Everything felt twisted up in his gut. He couldn’t parse out the mix of pain and fear and arousal that warred through him.

“I know what you need,” Sionis said, suddenly closing the space between them and crushing Jason’s face into his groin. “This. A cock in that pretty mouth of yours.” He stepped back just enough to undo his fly, then pushed open the cloth to pull out his engorged prick. Sionis was long and thick, the tip of his erection glistening wet with leaking seed.

Sionis stroked himself a few times, letting out a low hum of pleasure as he tugged on Jason’s hair. He trailed a streak of fluid along Jason's cheek before bringing his erection to rub against Jason's lips. “Come on baby. Open up.”

Jason could smell the sour musk of him, pungent with the odor of sweat. The acrid salt of precome spread over Jason’s tongue as he found himself reflexively licking his lips. He tried to lock down his jaw, keeping his teeth clenched, but Sionis just kept pressing the bulb of his prick to Jason's mouth. Hot tears threatened to well up in his eyes at the same time a crescendo of desire hit him like a tidal wave.

Jason opened his mouth and–

_CRACK!_

The door suddenly burst open and Sionis pulled back in surprise. It gave Jason just enough leeway to angle his head to the side. A tall imposing figure had stepped into the room. Jason’s heart skipped a beat as his thoughts immediately went to Slade, but it wasn’t his deadly soulmate that barrelled through. It was Artemis!

She took one look at them scowled. “Step away from the little one, Black Mask. Only a coward would force another against their will.” She sprang forward, slamming into Sionis with an upswing of her elbow, shoving him away so that he was flying backward into the wall. He crumpled bonelessly to the floor.

Artemis quickly turned back to Jason, ripping open his restraints with her bare hands and yanking him up onto his unsteady feet.

She tugged him forward. "Can you run?"

Jason stumbled a few steps and then nearly fell flat on his face. The heady arousal Sionis had forced on him still lingered. It left him simultaneously weak and overstimulated. He felt awkwardly exposed, too. The fact that he was still wearing nothing but a few leather straps did little to help him reground.

“I don’t think so,” He clutched Artemis’ arm for leverage as his knees buckled, “The virus… Sionis still has control.”

Artemis propped him up against the bench he had been tied to and turned to where Sionis was still lying on the floor. She narrowed her eyes and marched forward, sword drawn, to drag Sionis up by the collar. He blinked his sunken eyes open just as she pressed the tip of her sword to his throat.

“The virus. Remove it.” She commanded.

“I don’t think so. I think I’ve got you both where I want you,” Sionis said confidently, which was not at all what would have been expected from someone about to get their throat slashed open by a raging Amazon. Something was wrong. Jason could see Artemis was straining, even as she loosened her grip on Sionis’ collar and lowered her weapon.

“I was waiting for you to show up again,” Sionis went on, his voice haughty as he squared up on his feet and dusted off his shirt. "I admit you caught me by surprise just now. Didn’t think you’d be back so soon. I figured I’d have to use the programming to make you return, but it's good to see the virus settled into an Amazon this quickly.”

Jason’s heart sank at his words. “No. You said you didn’t infect her.”

“You should know better by now, Jason. I lied.” Sionis tightened his tie. Lines of purple script pulsed over his face and hands. “You think I’m stupid enough to let a weaponized Amazon just waltz out of here?”

“You’ll pay for this!” It seemed to take a herculean effort for Artemis to growl out her words.

“Oh, I definitely paid.” Sionis’ rudimentary facial tissue didn’t allow for a smirk but it could be clearly heard in his voice. “It was well worth the investment to have an Amazon on a leash. Now, I just need the kryptonian clone. Tell me where he is.”

“I will tell you nothing,” Artemis spat. “It will take more than a virus for someone like you to break me.”

“We'll see about that."

Jason watched, indignant fury rising as Artemis fell to her knees before Sionis, but then Sionis turned his attention to Jason and he felt the fire in himself quickly wane. Sionis sauntered over and pushed him backwards onto the bench again. The skin of his back stung from where Sionis had flayed him with his belt. Jason was helpless to fight back as the ball gag was stuffed back into his mouth. Sionis began running his hands lightly over Jason’s thighs, massaging more roughly over the triangle of leather that barely covered his cock.

Jason sucked in a sharp breath, trying to process the feeling of warmth that flooded him. He felt calm, almost euphoric, as Sionis slipped his hand under the studded waistband to cup over his heated erection. Jason knew he should have been furious. He knew he should have been fighting the touch with every ounce of his will but, even with the spiking pain of the soulmark on his arm, he couldn’t summon his rage. Instead, he was wrought with an urge to open himself wider, whimpering as Sionis rolled his fingers over his balls, arching upward to press himself into the roving fingers that were now massaging his taint. Jason couldn’t stop himself. The virus prevented it.

“By the Seven Beards,” Artemis’ voice pulled Jason momentarily out of his reverie. She was doubled over on the floor, struggling against Sionis' hold over her, a hint of desperation in the pitch of her low tones. “I cannot watch you violate him. I _will not.”_

“You will," Sionis laughed. "I find I enjoy an audience."

Artemis cast Sionis a look of pure disgust. "I’ll find a way to cleave your head from your shoulders but you must know this one is _paired._ You would commit a crime against Fate simply to satisfy your basest urges?”

Jason nearly choked on his gag at Artemis' sudden reveal of his karmic status. However, it had Sionis pausing. “There isn’t a mark on him," he refuted. "Believe me, I've checked."

“His right forearm," Artemis insisted. "It must be hidden. Take a closer look.”

Sionis did, lifting Jason's slackened limb and scraping his nails over Jason's skin. It took Sionis a second pass to finally catch the edge of the patch but once he found it, he immediately ripped it off to reveal the wolfmark. Jason felt it flare to life as Sionis finally caught sight of it, heat welling up inside him, clearing out the vestiges of arousal.

"What the hell?" Sionis exclaimed. "You have got to be kidding me!" He wrenched Jason up by the arm, angling him so Artemis could see it. "You fucking cunt. Do you know what this means?"

Artemis stared for a second, brows knitted, before responding. "The wolf. Those colors. I've heard of him by reputation. If one is a sword for hire it can only mean one thing—the man known as Deathstroke."

Sionis was fuming. He hooked his fingers under the collar around Jason's neck and dragged him close so that Jason was only inches from Sionis' gruesome face. "You little whore. Deathstroke, wasn't working for you. It's the other way around. You're literally his fucking bitch!" Sionis gripped him by the hair with one hand and pulled back his other to slap Jason hard enough that he saw stars. “I’m going to fuck you raw and once I show Deathstroke how much of a come-slut you are, he’s not going to want you back.”

He shoved Jason face down onto the floor and positioned himself between Jason’s thighs. Jason struggled weakly, feeling the weight of the other man at his back as fingers slipped between the cleft of his bare buttocks to probe at his hole. A crushing wave of arousal engulfed him and Jason thought he was lost to it but for the sudden stabbing bite of his wolfmark. It nearly blinded him with pain and he tried to blink his vision clear only to realize it wasn’t just him. The whole room was lit up by a bright light that was coming from the window.

It was a spotlight from a craft hovering outside.

In the next split-second, there was a loud thundering explosion. Jason felt himself being hauled upright as Sionis used him as a shield against the shattering glass. Forms and figures burst into the room through the broken windows. There was a blur of movement that Jason couldn’t follow. The bright lights were still blinding him and his head spun as he tried to battle through the fog of Sionis’ control, but through the commotion Jason made out a familiar silhouette draped in black and orange. A feeling of elation accompanied the strong pulse of his soulmark. It was Slade. His soulmate had come for him.

Jason thrashed, trying to reach for Slade, screaming around the gag in his mouth, but Sionis didn't loosen his hold.

"Knock out the light. Take Deathstroke out!" he was shouting and, belatedly, Jason realized he was barking orders at Artemis.

Artemis flung something at the light and it exploded. She dashed forward, sword drawn, and Jason heard a clash and clang as Slade met her metal to metal. Sionis was slowly backing away as the two fought, pulling Jason with him toward the exit. They only made it a few paces before a dark ball of black and blue slammed into them. Nightwing had appeared out of nowhere, wedging an arm between Sionis and Jason to break his hold. Sionis was driven backward and Jason wrenched away. He stumbled, slipping on shards of glass as Dick tackled Sionis to the floor.

Jason lost his footing and fell to his hands and knees. When he looked up, Dick had Sionis pressed to the floor with his arms pinned behind his back. He was physically subdued, but that did little to prevent Sionis from manipulating Jason with the virus. Jason felt the tingling numbness in his arms and legs, that familiar ghosting purple script on his skin again, and he suddenly found his limbs moving, walking backwards like a marionette, toward the open window.

“No!” Dick looked up at Jason in alarm as he tried to wrangle Sionis into a set of cuffs. He shouted at Slade, “Deathstroke! He’s heading for the window!”

Slade had been locked in a heated battle with Artemis but he broke away at Dick’s words to make for Jason instead. Artemis quickly rounded to block his path however, squaring off against him so they were at a standstill. Jason found himself watching helplessly as his body moved precariously close to the window ledge, his back facing the sheer drop several stories down. A fall from this height would kill him. Slivers of glass dug into his heels as he slowly teetered further and further out.

Sionis laughed under Dick’s hold. “You’re going to take these cuffs off and let me walk out of here, or else I make your little pet throw himself out the window.”

Dick didn’t respond directly. Instead he addressed Slade, "We need to take her down to get to Jason.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Slade’s voice was calm but the lines of his body were taut like a bowstring. He slowly drew the pistol from his thigh holster, “There's an easier way out of this.” He turned slightly so that Sionis was within view and lifted the gun, pointing it straight at him. “We take out the one controlling them.”

“No!” Nightwing moved to cover Sionis with his body. “We don’t kill!”

“ _You don’t._ Now get out the way, Nightwing.”

It looked to Jason that Slade was about to open fire anyway but the standoff was interrupted as the entire floor shifted underneath their feet. It tilted enough that Jason nearly fell out the window but he managed to catch himself on the frame. There was a rumble of a not-too-distant explosion and the building began to shake.

“What’s going on?” Dick looked down at Sionis, still pinned underneath him on the floor.

It was Artemis who answered.

“It's Bizarro,” she said, still straining against the virus’s control.

“What’s a Bizarro?” Slade aimed the question at her but kept his gun trained on Sionis.

“While all of you have been posturing, he’s been destroying the lab below us,” Artemis replied, a hint of smugness in the curl of her lip.

Sionis roared, somehow finding enough strength to knock Dick from atop him. He scrambled to his feet, pointing an accusing finger at Artemis in fury. “You treacherous bitch! I’m going to make you gut yourself!”

Jason strained uselessly against the virus as Artemis began to point the tip of her sword at her own belly, the sharp tip pressing an indentation into the leather of her armor. Sionis was making good on his word and Artemis would be powerless to prevent it if the purple script wrapped around her arms was any indication. Thankfully, Dick sent a batarang flying through the air to knock the sword from her hand. He followed up with a tie line, looping around her arms and then pulling it tight to immobilize her.

Sionis growled at being thwarted. “Fine. Keep the bitch.” He turned his attention to Jason. “And if you want your little whore so much, go and get his corpse.”

The compulsion felt like a physical shove. Jason felt his body lurch backwards. He felt the glass slide away from the soles of his feet as he tipped over the edge and out the window.

“Deathstroke, he’s falling!” Dick shouted desperately. He was still struggling to bind Artemis. It left him too far away to reach Jason in time. However, Slade had already abandoned his opening with Sionis to lunge for the window.

Slade dove forward, managing to catch Jason by the hand and sliding half out of the building himself as he dangled over the side. He stopped himself by gripping onto a jagged iron rebar that jutted out from the wreckage of the frame.

“Give me your other hand!” Slade cried.

Jason tried but he couldn’t. His limbs felt dead even as his heart seemed to stutter. He tried to tell Slade but the gag was still in his mouth. He could only return Slade’s desperate gaze.

There was another low rumble and the whole building shook. The concrete of the building’s floor slab began to crumble. Jason could feel Slade’s grip tighten but he only had the traction of his glove against Jason’s bare palm and he couldn’t get a better hold without letting go and repositioning. It wasn’t enough for Slade to lift him to safety, especially with Jason unable to grip back. The building shook again and the rebar Slade was holding came loose.

Slade’s grip failed and Jason fell.

Jason felt his heart in his throat as he plummeted backwards, feeling the force of gravity drag him down at an ever increasing speed. His pulse thundered in his ears as time seemed to slow down. Jason watched as Slade dove out after him, launching himself off the building with a burst of power, propelling himself out fast so that he could meet Jason in freefall.

Slade collided with him mid-air, then wrapped his arms tightly around him, clutching him close as he attempted to shoot a line to stop their fall. It was to no avail. They were falling too fast, and the hook couldn't latch onto the destabilizing columns. Mere fractions of a second had passed but Jason knew there was nothing else they could grab onto. Other buildings were too far away and the trajectory at which Slade had launched at him pushed them out of reach to catch a ledge.

They weren’t going to stop until they hit the ground. Slade might survive the fall but even if he tried to take the brunt of the impact, at this velocity and with no protection or armour, Jason wouldn’t make it. This was the end of the line for him.

He tried to just focus on the fact that Slade was holding him close. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable, when he felt something careen into them from the side.

Something heavy and thick wrapped around them and their descent was suddenly slowing. Jason could feel the drag of an upward force countering their inertia. He blinked his eyes open to see the familiar gray pallor of Bizarro. He’d caught them, his enormous arms wrapped around both him and Slade.

A second later they were touching down onto hard ground. There was a whoosh of air as Bizarro promptly disappeared, only to return moments later with Artemis and Dick hooked under his arms. Behind them the building began to collapse, the floors pancaking until the entire structure was in ruins.

Jason's attention was drawn away from it by a tugging motion at his head. Slade was unbuckling the gag, gently removing it from Jason's mouth. Slade stroked his thumbs lightly over Jason's lips as he worked through the ache in his jaw.

"You were supposed to wait for me," Slade chided but there was no bite in his tone. Just the measured cadence of a quiet murmur.

"I did." Jason rasped, his tongue felt like sandpaper. "I waited and you didn't come back." He reached out to put his palm over where Slade's robinmark was hidden under his suit.

"You didn't wait long enough." Slade clasped his hand over Jason's, keeping his hand in place so that they both felt the karmic impressions.

Jason was feeling a little faint but at least the spiking pain of the soulmark had gone away. It was back to the usual flood of heat and gentle throbbing. Jason welcomed the sensations. Even the dull ache that reached deep into his heart somehow felt soothing. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him as Slade continued to hold him close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is staying healthy and safe. Thank you to everyone so far who has left a comment or kudos. It was really fun hearing what you all think so far. Loved hearing from you even if it was just to say you're enjoying it so far! Thanks so much!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is the last chapter folks. Is that smut I see over them thar hills?

Slade was livid. Finding Jason—bloody and practically naked—pressed under that bastard Black Mask had him seeing a nasty shade of crimson. It felt like he’d never wanted to murder anyone more than in that very moment. Slade had aimed the hovercraft’s blaster right at Sionis’ ugly black skull. The plasma bolt would have blown him to smithereens if Dick hadn’t wrested the hovercraft’s controls back in the last second. As it was, the shot he managed to fire missed by a yard, but it still shattered the plate-glass windows. Slade didn’t waste any time jumping in.

It went downhill from there. It didn’t help that Nightwing actively tried to deflect all his killing blows and even with his Ikon suit dispersing the bulk of the impact, a hit from the mind-controlled Amazon’s fists was like getting smacked around by a ton of bricks. She was a more than capable fighter with an inhumanely fast recovery. By the time they were all safely on the ground, staring back at the ruins of Black Mask’s research tower, the Amazon had regained her sensibilities and control, standing ready but with weapons lowered.

On the other hand, Jason looked deathly pale and disoriented. A chill had settled into the night, and with much of his skin exposed Jason had begun to shiver from the cold. His back was a mess of seeping welts, stripes of bloody gashes that were interrupted by strips of leather and metal. Jason huddled into himself, but not before Slade caught sight of the glint of silver at his nipples that had Slade’s blood boiling. If Sionis wasn’t already dead, he was going to pay with much more than a pound of flesh.

Slade eyed the Amazon again. “You’re not being controlled anymore. What happened to Black Mask?”

Artemis briefly conferred with Bizarro, who by the looks of it was some sort of Kryptonian clone. She responded with, “Bizarro doesn’t see or hear him, and I don't feel him through the virus either. It may be that Black Mask is unconscious or dead. Preferably the latter.”

“We need to be sure you're not still being controlled." Dick had sheathed his escrima, but his stance was guarded.

“If I wasn't in control you'd be a smear on the floor by now." Artemis shrugged her shoulders, waving a hand lackadaisically as if brushing away a fly, managing to somehow be as gruff as she was stately. "I felt the virus cede control. Sionis is likely buried in that building somewhere. I saw him attempting to run as Bizarro pulled us out.”

Dick turned to Bizarro, “If Sionis is alive, we still have to find him. What about other survivors?”

Artemis answered before Bizarro even opened his mouth. “I told Bizarro to clear the building before destroying the foundations. As for Black Mask, if he's dead, he got what he deserved but it is not Bizarro’s fault. He was born barely a day ago. Black Mask tried to enslave us and he knowingly tried to force himself on another’s soulmate. Death is the bare minimum of what he had earned himself.”

“We still need to make sure Black Mask didn’t escape.” It was Jason this time. “I felt the virus let go too, but we're still infected.” He sounded surprisingly rational despite the fact that his eyes remained unfocused and his pupils blown. He was trying to pull himself up onto his feet but nearly toppled over before Slade caught him.

"I'll get a team on it," Dick agreed, already tapping at his comm to send a message. "In the meantime we need to get you and Artemis as far away from here as possible."

Slade didn’t like leaving without a body to confirm, and it didn’t look like Dick did either, though probably for different reasons. Nevertheless, at the moment there wasn't any more he could do on that front other than try to dig Sionis' body out of the rubble with his bare hands. Jason didn’t look well either, and the sooner Slade got him away from here, the better.

“Come on, can you walk?” Slade pulled Jason’s arm over his shoulder, supporting his weight as Jason leaned against him.

“Hang on. Where are you taking him?” Dick stepped in front of them.

“I have a doctor," Slade explained. "I can handle things from here.”

“No. Jason’s coming with me. I’ll take him back to the cave for treatment." Dick widened his stance, subtly holding his arms out so that he was in a more fight-ready position. "I called a truce but don’t think that I forgot what you did last time you took him. You disappeared for _months._ I’m not going to let you just walk off with him again.”

He reached out to grab Jason’s arm and Slade reacted by immediately shuffling Jason behind him. Dick side-stepped, attempting to duck past the breadth of Slade's reach, but it was Artemis who actually halted Dick by catching the scruff of his suit.

“What right do you have to interfere in the affairs of a karmic pair?” The look she gave him would have had a lesser man withering under her gaze but unsurprisingly to Slade, Dick simply glared right back. He had never been one to be easily intimidated.

“I’m _family,”_ Dick said as he twisted out from her grasp. “I appreciate your good intentions but you don’t know the whole story.”

“Perhaps it is none of my business and perhaps it is also none of yours but if the karmic pair is united, leave them be.” Artemis postured herself so she was standing at her full height—Slade judged her to be a good six feet plus another few inches from her boots—looking that much further down her nose at Dick.

“Even if one party forced the pairing onto the other?” Dick wasn’t even close to backing down.

“That shouldn’t be possible. Entanglement itself is never a choice, but…” she turned back to Jason, “What do you want to do?"

Dick looked expectantly at Jason, holding a hand out in invitation as he implored, “Jason, come on.”

“I’m not going to the cave.” Jason sounded tired and strained. It made something inside Slade tense in frustration. They were wasting time standing around arguing.

Fortunately, Artemis went with Jason’s word. “That settles it,” she said. “We will escort you to this doctor. Come on, Bizarro.” She motioned for the clone to follow.

Dick sighed, undoubtedly recognizing that he was outnumbered. “Fine, but I’m coming with." A hint of bitterness seeping into his voice. "If I suspect for a second there’s something up, I’m calling in backup.”

Having an entourage wasn’t what Slade had intended but he wasn’t going to turn down a ride in the hovercraft. Not with Jason starting to list from side to side even with Slade holding him steady. He wrapped Jason in an emergency blanket as soon as they got on board, then strapped him into the seat. The fact that Jason didn’t put up a fight was a little worrisome.

"You still with me?" Slade grasped Jason’s shoulder firmly as his eyes began to drift. 

“Yeah,” Jason mumbled in reply, though Slade didn’t like the pained look that spread over his features. He probably had a mild concussion, which was not life-threatening, but combined with a mind-controlling virus this was unknown territory. Jason winced as he leaned backwards into his seat. The wounds at his back must have been painful, but he didn’t make any other complaint. He just leaned slightly against Slade as he closed his eyes.

Slade made a call, dropping their destination into the nav for Dick, and a short time later they arrived at Jersey City Medical Center, heading through the back entrance and down into the underground lab of Doctor Arthur Villain. Jason managed to wrap some makeshift bandages around each of his feet with the hovercraft’s first aid kit. They immediately soaked through with blood, but he insisted on hobbling on his own two feet, flinching away when Slade tried to lift him. 

“I can walk,” He said, clutching the blanket around his shoulders. Slade resisted the urge to simply grab and carry him—Jason had that stubborn look in his eyes. It made Slade feel irrationally angry at being rebuffed but he let Jason be. At least Dick wasn’t fairing any better. He got Jason’s trademark, “Fuck off!” when he tried to help. 

Slade didn’t bother suppressing his smirk at that. A small victory was still a victory. 

Dick backed down, stepping back several paces until Jason stopped glaring. It gave Slade the opportunity to step closer, keeping a close flank on Jason as they made it to the entrance to Arthur’s lab.

"You've got to be kidding," Dick scrutinized the nameplate on the door. "Your doctor's name is Villain? And he has a secret underground lab?"

"It's pronounced _Will-hane._ It's French." The familiar exasperated voice of Arthur Villain preceded his entrance into the hall they were standing in. He rounded the corner, white lab coat stark and bright over the neutral blues and grays of his shirt and tie. "And my lab is not a secret. It's merely the space that the medical center assigned in order to accommodate my research equipment."

Arthur spared an assessing gaze over the party, eyes lingering in interest on Bizarro, before landing on Jason. 

"I'm a geneticist, not a medic," He said with a scowl but then his eyes flicked down to the wolfmark on Jason's bare arm. "I see…,” Arthur narrowed his eyes at Slade. “Very well, but I'll have to ask everyone else to stay in the waiting room."

He unlocked the door to the lab with the press of his thumb against a scanner. The others paused in the waiting room as Slade followed Jason and Arthur further into the lab until they reached an exam room. However, Arthur blocked the door when Slade tried to step in. “I said everyone else in the waiting room. That includes you.”

Behind him, Jason was leaning heavily against the exam table. He’d gone mysteriously silent since coming in but he nodded at Slade. With that Arthur simply shut the door in Slade’s face.

There was nothing to do but wait. Slade turned to go back to the waiting room only to find Dick was already standing behind him. 

"We need to talk," Dick said, arms crossed over his chest. Even though he was lean and rather slight compared to Slade, he still knew how to hold himself in a way that appeared imposing.

Not that Slade felt threatened in the least but he’d been dealing with Dick all night. He had just about exhausted the last of his good will toward the former Boy Wonder. 

“Not in the mood for more of your preaching.” Slade made to push past him but Dick stood his ground.

“Hear me out,” Dick said, indicating that they step into a side room. Slade considered ignoring the request but he knew Dick wouldn’t quit harping if he did. He probably should have put an end to this farce earlier. Maybe a good fight would bring home the point, Slade thought, as he followed Dick into the adjacent room. The ire he felt at Dick for preventing Slade from killing Sionis’ was not forgotten.

Dick regarded him for a moment, lips pursed but otherwise his expression remained neutral. “You gave up a clear shot to take out Sionis to try and save Jason,” he stated. “You threw yourself out the window after him. Why?”

“I’m not going to hash this out with you again,” Slade grumbled. “Get to the point.”

“Fine.” The line of Dick’s shoulders drew taut and he balled his fists as he spoke. “I’m willing to admit after everything tonight, that this might not be as malicious on your part as I originally thought. I’m still convinced that you did this for purely self-serving purposes, and I don’t know why Fate paired you together but, if Jason decides he wants to accept it, then I’m going to find a way to support him.”

That wasn’t what Slade had been expecting. Dick rarely relented on anything, but it really made no difference to Slade one way or another. "I don't need your blessing, Grayson," he said.

“This isn't about me giving you my approval. This is about Jason knowing that his family isn't turning their backs on him for something that's not his fault. I won't ever condone what you did or what you do but I'm also not going to let you tear him away from us. I’m willing to extend the truce if you don't kill in Gotham, or anywhere within a hundred miles, you don't take Jason on jobs, and you don't interfere in any of our work. Everything else you do is fair game for us to come after you.”

Dick’s arrogance was getting the better of him again. He was a fool to think Slade would simply stop working in Gotham simply on Dick’s say. “Those are good contracts you want me to give up.”

“It’s not about what I want Slade. I’d rather we put you in Blackgate for this and all the people you’ve murdered. You’ve put Jason in a situation where he thinks he has to choose, and I’m telling you not to force him any more than you already have or it's going to blow up in your face. I’d let it happen if that didn’t also mean Jason was going to get hurt in the process. Give him room to say no, Slade. Or else you’re no better than Black Mask.”

Slade grit his teeth as anger flared. “Watch it Grayson. I warned you. I’ve killed for lesser offenses.”

“But you won’t,” Dick challenged. “I see it now. You’re not in as much control as I thought you were. I didn’t want to accept it at first, but what you said earlier is true—pairing means _reciprocation._ This entanglement goes both ways, doesn’t it? You’ve caught yourself in your own trap and you’re not willing to walk away either. You’re not going to do something that you know would make Jason choose to leave you.”

They stood, staring each other down for a good long minute. Slade considered all the ways in which he could wipe that insufferable look of conceit off Dick’s face but, in the end, all he said was, “I’m not planning on taking any jobs in Gotham at the moment. Keep Batman off my tail, and we can keep the truce. For now. ”

Slade turned to leave the room, but the door opened just as he reached it. Arthur walked into the room.

“Colonel Wilson, a word?” He stopped beside Slade, noting Dick’s presence in the room.

“Go ahead.” Slade gestured dismissively at Dick as an indication for Arthur to proceed. 

That seemed good enough for Arthur and he launched in. “While mind controlling agents are not my normal area of research, the agent appears to be viral in nature. Fortunately, this crosses over into genetics. I’ll run some tests but I’m confident I can offer a cure. The virus seems currently inactive, as I’m told there is no controlling agent, and his body is currently fighting it as if it were any other infection. That, combined with his concussion, means he’ll need bedrest.”

“Can I see him?” Dick asked.

Arthur quirked a brow. “No. He asked to see his partner.”

Slade could practically hear Dick grinding his teeth. A smug grin twitched at the corner of Slade’s mouth as he left the room, but it quickly fell away as soon as he entered the exam room where Jason was waiting. 

The criss-cross of leather and buckles had been removed and set aside in a pile in the corner, allowing Slade to more clearly see the vivid bruising on Jason’s skin under the harsh exam room lights. The piercings had been removed and Jason’s nipples were swollen and red. Under different circumstances Slade would have found it appealing but at the moment it just brought up an overwhelming rage. The side of Jason’s face was purpling, too, probably from the blow that gave him the concussion. Several of the larger cuts on his back had been stitched. 

"Are you in pain?" Slade ventured.

"I'm fine.” Jason’s rote response probably revealed more than he intended. His voice sounded too thin and defensive, which only fueled Slade’s anger at Sionis for what he’d done. It didn’t matter that the other man was likely dead. Slade would kill him twice over if he could.

"What the hell did Black Mask make you do?" He was surprised when his words made Jason flinch.

Jason recovered quickly, though the arc of his back was rigid. "If we’re gonna fight, can I get some pants first?" He snapped, reviving some of his bite even as he tried to hide his reaction by crinkling the papery thin drape over his lap. 

"We’re not fighting. I’ll have Arthur get you a hospital gown.” Slade made it a point to keep himself a little more than an arm's reach away. Jason looked spooked. If he pressed too hard, his bird was liable to take flight. He needed to know what happened though, and he needed to know where they stood. Slade wasn’t usually one to broach a subject delicately, and just the thought of Sionis’ hands on Jason had Slade boiling over in fury again, so he simply said, “Did he fuck you?”

Jason’s eyes widened at the blunt question, before his face went bright red and he looked away. “Jesus, Slade. No. I didn’t fuck him.”

“Not exactly what I asked, but good to know.” Slade approached now, taking slow steps forward and reaching out to brush his fingers along Jason’s swollen cheek. “I wasn’t accusing you. I was asking if he forced you.”

“Not like that.” Jason swallowed thickly. “He tried, but Artemis stopped him.” 

“Alright, then.” Slade moved closer, boxing in around where Jason sat on the exam table. He brought both his hands up to cup around Jason’s face, noting that his skin felt slightly heated from fever, and said, “Just so you know, I would have killed him either way. You’re mine, and the only thing that matters is this.” Slade brought one hand to graze over Jason’s wolfmark.

Jason sucked in a breath at the contact, but he didn’t shy away. Slade took that as license to move forward and, emboldened, he wrapped his fingers around Jason’s forearm, stroking his thumb over Jason’s soulmark to feel the impressions. Warmth. A pull at something buried unfathomably deep inside him. A subtle ache. A string of tension that ran through his entire frame as he asked, “Are we still doing this?" 

"Doing what?" Jason’s voice was a little breathy. 

Slade let go of Jason’s soulmark. “You’re being obtuse on purpose.” 

That garnered a sour look from Jason but he remained evasive. “Can we just go home?” 

Slade didn’t let it drop. “If we're going home, is it because you want to or because you think I'm forcing you?” 

Jason had turned away to stare at his fisted hands in his lap, but he looked up after a pause. “Dick and Bruce had a point, Slade. I’m still not sure this is what I would have wanted if I’d been given the choice, but the whole time Sionis had me I kept feeling you through this.” Jason touched the wolf on his arm. “Maybe on the surface what you did and what Sionis tried to do doesn’t look that different, but for me, it _feels_ different.”

He reached out to push Slade’s sleeve up to reveal the robinmark, pressing his palm over it with one hand and using his other to touch his fingers over his own wolfmark. The impressions started up again and Slade watched Jason close his eyes as they cycled through him. 

“I didn’t choose this,” he said, “but right now I want to go home. Back to the safehouse. And I want you to come with me. That’s all I know.”

Jason opened his eyes and tugged Slade down just close enough to brush their lips together. He stayed there like that, waiting, until Slade finally closed the gap and kissed him, pressing his tongue into Jason’s mouth. He tasted sweet and hot just like Slade remembered. He pushed in further, feeling the urge to reclaim what Sionis had tried to take for himself, drawing out the kiss until Jason finally broke away for air.

Slade stroked his hand along Jason’s flushed cheek. “Let’s go home.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

After Arthur had taken a sample of the virus, they returned to the safehouse where Jason could recover in the quiet of their home. At least as quiet as it could be with the Amazon and the Kryptonian clone now joining them in the adjacent suite. Having them constantly barge in and out of their living space was irksome, but Jason seemed to have gotten oddly attached to Bizarro and he had committed to helping Artemis find some sort of missing weapon. She had been instrumental in protecting Jason from Sionis so Slade tolerated her for the time being. 

After a couple weeks the symptoms of the concussion subsided and Jason didn’t waste any time getting back to work. He and Artemis had both been cured of the techno-organic virus, thanks to Arthur, and they had cleared out with Bizarro earlier in the day to gather intel and supplies.

That left Slade with a rare moment of solitude in the safehouse. He took advantage of that by raiding Jason’s stash of cold brewed coffee. If there was one thing that Gothamites did right, it was caffeine... which was not surprising given that the city was known for its gaggle of night birds and bats. Even the dingiest corner cafes had a decent cup but Jason seemed to have developed a small fixation for his own special concoction. His bird fussed over the specially roasted beans and the meticulously measured ratio of water. He protected it like gold after it sat in the refrigerator overnight. Not that Slade was complaining. He’d found a taste for it, too, once Jason had offered him a cup of it heated up with boiling water.

Slade had made himself a kettle and had the carafe of concentrated brew ready to mix into a cup when he noticed a shadow drifting at the edges of the room. He sidestepped in time to avoid a jab aimed at his throat. Slade parried, grabbing the kettle as he did so to throw scalding water into the face of his bat-shaped attacker.

It was about time Batman showed up, Slade thought. He’d been waiting for this. 

Batman deflected with a flutter of his cape, using the swirl of cloth to conceal the powerful kick that followed. Slade twisted and blocked but the move forced him backwards into the table behind him. It rocked with his weight and the carafe atop it teetered and crashed to the floor. 

Slade landed a punch straight into Batman’s gut that had him staggering. Batman switched into a defensive stance, ready for Slade to advance, but Slade dropped his attack to survey the mess on the floor instead. The carafe had shattered, spraying glass and coffee everywhere.

“Goddamnit!” Slade huffed. “Do you have any idea what you just did?” 

Batman was on a different track however. He was literally spitting rage. “I don’t know what you did to convince _two_ of my sons that you’re not the threat that you are. I’ll let the truce stand for Dick and Jason, but consider this your warning: I’m watching you. You get one strike, then I'm coming for you.”

Slade shrugged. “Did it take two weeks for you to get up the nerve to tell me that?”

“I’ve been offworld.” The words were so garbled from the growl in Batman’s throat it was almost unintelligible. Slade was starting to wonder who was meant to be the wolf between the two of them.

“Well, good for you.” Slade stomped back to the kitchen to grab some towels, feeling his own rage bubbling to the surface. “Now, are you going to help me clean this up? That was the last of Jason's favorite roast. They only sell that shit once a year. How the hell am I supposed to make a new cold brew before he gets home?”

“Hnn,” Batman grunted. “I'll have something delivered.” With that he swept from the room. 

Slade was left to clean up the mess on his own, but sure enough not an hour later a to-go carafe arrived at their door, along with a carton of Jason’s favorite roast.

“Fucker,” Slade grumbled. He poured a cup for himself, then decanted the rest into a backup carafe and put it in the fridge. 

By the time Jason returned with Artemis and Bizarro in tow, Slade had almost forgotten about it. He was seated on the couch, reading through the news and ignoring messages from Wintergreen when they shuffled several crates of munitions into the storeroom. Artemis and Bizarro left, and after a few minutes of padding around in the kitchen Jason took a seat next to Slade, a mug of something in hand. 

He took a sip, and then immediately made a face. “This isn’t my cold brew.”

Slade looked up at him. “You can thank Batman for that. Your family are a bunch of dramatic asshats. I take it you talked to him recently?”

“Yeah,” Jason looked pensive. “Earlier today. I stopped by to see him in the cave.”

“And?”

“And I guess it went better than last time.”

Which wasn’t saying much, Slade thought, but that was probably what precipitated Batman’s drop in. “Anything else I should know about?” He put his phone down and leaned in closer, running his hand up Jason’s thigh as he did so. Having him so close and available always had Slade interested to see how Jason would respond, especially with Slade currently feeling pent up from the earlier half of the day. Jason seemed somewhat jittery, too. They both had extra energy that needed to be burned off and Slade wanted to take advantage of that. 

Rigorous sex had been out of the question immediately after Jason’s concussion but Slade had still indulged in the feel of Jason’s bare skin and the taste of his mouth whenever Jason didn’t back him off. It resulted in a few hand jobs but Jason had balked and gone pale the one time Slade pressed his dick to Jason’s mouth. _That_ was definitely new since he’d returned. He’d fucked Jason’s face plenty of times before, so that meant his new reticence had to do with something Black Mask had done. Slade would have to dig up Sionis’ corpse and tear it to pieces for that. Once they found it, that is. Which was a point he hadn’t quite brought up with Jason yet. Sionis’ body still hadn’t been located in the rubble. Something would have to be done about that. Slade was planning on making sure Sions was good and dead while Jason was on his upcoming mission with Artemis and Bizarro.

In the meantime, he was going to enjoy the fact that Jason was back where he belonged. Slade put his hands on Jason’s shoulders and pushed him backwards. The leather cushions squeaked under their weight as Slade climbed over him. He leaned down to nudge open Jason’s mouth and then sealed their lips together. 

Jason practically melted under the kiss, the tension in his muscles easing as Slade moved his hands from Jason’s shoulders and down his chest, down further until he could slide his hands under Jason’s shirt to graze over hard muscle and soft skin. He pushed up the hem until Jason allowed Slade to tug the shirt over his head, then Slade returned his hands to flick at Jason’s nipples. They’d been red and swollen for several days when Jason had first come back, even after the piercings had been removed, and Slade wondered if they were still sensitive to touch.

He tested his theory by kissing them one by one. He sucked on the first until it was perked and hard under his tongue, then lapped at it until he could feel the tremors of Jason’s hitched breath. He moved onto the second, keeping one hand teasing at the first while licking and sucking the other, until both of the buds were flushed pink and distended. Until Jason was arching under him, panting, and then tugging on his hair to pull him away from his chest.

“Too much?” Slade paused, but didn't move away, his breath still tickling Jason's chest.

Jason tugged him up again, but Slade stayed where he was. “I should have left marks on you that you couldn’t cover up.” He grazed his teeth along the sensitive buds. “Maybe I should pierce you again myself. Then anyone who thinks they can take you will know you already belong to me.” He bit down just hard enough to bruise and Jason jolted under him. It was quickly followed up with a breathy moan. 

Slade moved up to kiss Jason’s throat, nipping at the hollow of his neck. Jason twisted his fingers through Slade’s hair. “Don’t you dare leave a mark,” he said, even as he pressed down at the back of Slade’s head.

Slade let out a low laugh. “I’ve already left a mark.” He reached up to loosen Jason’s hold, grabbing his forearm over his soulmark and pressing it into the cushions. The touch triggered a hot flare of karmic impressions as he held Jason’s arm down with a firm grip. The sensation had him fully hard within seconds, straining in the confines of his jeans. It had him wanting to bury himself inside Jason’s tight heat, to make Jason _his_ again, and he wanted to make sure Jason knew it through and through. 

“Don’t cover it up again,” Slade squeezed over the wolfmark to make clear his point. “Do you hear me?”

Jason shifted under him, testing Slade’s hold, and Slade responded by gripping Jason’s arm a little harder. “Do you hear me?” he repeated. “Don’t hide it. Ever.”

That only seemed to earn him a flash of defiance from Jason. “Then don’t give me a reason to.”

A challenge if there ever was one. Slade reared back to undo his belt, yanking on the buckle and then unthreading it from the belt loops of his jeans. Jason’s eyes widened at that, but he didn’t move away. He struggled a little as Slade turned him over onto his stomach, just enough so that Slade had to use some force to pin Jason face down into the cushions. He didn’t move as Slade fastened the leather around his wrists, wrapping the belt several times around his forearms, just tight enough to keep him bound, but not enough to be painful. 

When Jason didn’t move to free himself, Slade kept going. He shifted to push a knee in between Jason’s thighs, nudging upward into the crook of his groin. There wasn’t quite enough width on the couch for him to be fully splayed, so Slade settled in with one foot on the floor, grinding his arousal along Jason's thigh. He wedged one hand under Jason to grab at his crotch, satisfied when he found that Jason was getting hard, too. Slade could feel the length of him even through the denim of his pants.

Slade grabbed Jason by the hair and twisted his head to the side so he could attack his mouth while continuing the undulation of his hips. He could feel Jason flexing beneath him, syncing his movements to maximize the friction each time Slade rubbed his hardened cock over his backside.

“Nnnn,” Jason turned his head away from the kiss to suck in a breath just as Slade began working at Jason’s fly, pulling down the zipper and yanking on the waistband. He moved to discard his own clothing as Jason struggled with his pants halfway down his legs, squirming with his hands still tied behind his back. Slade yanked them down the rest of the way and, when Jason was spread out naked before him, Slade climbed over him to slide his erection along Jason’s crack. He’d been looking forward to this. He wouldn’t have waited as long as he had if it weren’t for Jason’s injuries, and he’d been eager to start painting over the damage Sionis had left by reinforcing the inviolable ties of their entanglement. It was time he reminded Jason who his soulmate was.

“Did he have you under him like this?” Slade slid himself between Jason’s cheeks. “Did he make you come before he tried to fuck you?”

“I didn’t, Slade.” Jason stilled under him and turned away. His voice was quieter as he repeated, “I didn’t.”

“Good.” Slade hissed into Jason’s ear. “We’re paired. That means you’re mine. Nobody, especially not that bastard Sionis, is going to change that. Don’t forget it.” He nipped at Jason’s earlobe, but then soothed it with a kiss, tonguing behind his ear before twisting his head to the side to lick into his mouth.

Slade enjoyed the slight tack of warm skin as Jason writhed under him once more... as Slade gripped his bound arms to wrangle him into submission, grinding and rolling his hips until his erection was leaking wet trails of pre-come that smeared along the inside of Jason’s thighs. Slade swiped at some of the fluid and reached down to run his thumb behind Jason’s balls, moving further to apply a slight pressure at his taint. Jason moaned in response, angling himself in a way that had Slade’s thumb slipping toward Jason’s hole.

Slade obliged, moving his fingers to swirl around Jason’s rim and pushing in just enough to catch on the pucker of his entrance. Slade stroked his thumb back and forth and Jason threw his head back, spreading his legs wider in encouragement. That was as good an invitation as any to continue and Slade reached for the bottle of lube that he’d stuffed between the cushions some time ago, squirting a generous amount to slick his fingers.

Slade used his other hand to grope along the round of Jason's buttocks, a lateral caress that spread him open so that Slade could probe a finger at Jason’s entrance. Slade watched as the thick digit pressed and pressed, working the rough callused pad into the sensitive flesh, past the knuckles until it was in as far as it could go. Then he leaned in to lick at where his finger disappeared inside Jason, jacking his finger in and out before he added another, stretching Jason open with the rhythmic thrusting of his hand.

Jason whimpered and panted, his breathing punctuated by sharp gasps, and Slade felt himself aching in anticipation. There was no reason to deny himself any longer. He reached down to grip his own cock, coating it with another dollop of lube. He gave it a few pulls until it was slick and so hard it was twitching as he positioned the tip at Jason’s entrance. 

He breached Jason slowly, pushing in an inch, then two, feeling a wash of pleasure build as he drilled further in. Slade leaned down to grab Jason by the hips, intending to rock himself forward to close the final increments until he was fully sheathed, but then Jason suddenly squirmed beneath him.

“Wait.” Jason turned his head to the side so that Slade could see the flush of his cheek. His brow was furrowed, and he looked tense. Too tense. He was trying to hide it, but he looked uncomfortable.

Slade paused, his cock not even half buried and throbbing as Jason clenched around him. "What?" His voice rumbled like the churning of rough gravel, but he held himself still despite the overwhelming urge to simply thrust himself the rest of the way in.

"Just… just let me…." Jason trailed off to take several deep breaths.

Slade reached down to press his palm over Jason’s wolfmark. “Easy,” he soothed, letting the flood of heat that was the karmic impressions wash over them both. Jason clenched down again, and Slade reflexively groaned at the stimulation, but then the tension began to ease up and Jason arched his hips so that Slade’s cock was sliding in deeper. “That’s it,” Slade kept one hand on Jason’s arm, his other stroking along Jason’s quivering hip as he sunk in further and further. 

When he bottomed out inside Jason, Slade switched tactics. He slid an arm under Jason’s chest while keeping them pressed together, then reared back without pulling out. He rotated them so that Slade was leaning into the couch-back cushions with Jason fully seated in his lap.

Slade rolled his hips upwards as he reached to skirt his hand along Jason’s tied wrists, angling so that he could brush his palm over Jason’s wolfmark again. “Fuck yourself on me,” he said, as he coaxed Jason to straddle over him. 

Jason didn’t immediately react. He still seemed hesitant, so Slade sat up to press his chest against Jason’s back, stroking one hand over the wolf and the other over Jason’s cock. “Are you thinking about him? About Sionis? About what he did to you?” 

“No!” Jason immediately answered, twisting to glance over his shoulder. Slade could see his face had reddened to the tips of his ears. “Slade, I’m….”

He swallowed his next words as Slade ran his thumb over the head of Jason’s cock, then increased the pace of his stroke until he was milking beads of clear fluid from Jason’s tip. “Shhh, Jason. I’ve got you,” he said, as he kept his other hand pressed fully over the wolf. He rolled his hips upward and crooned into Jason’s ear, “We’re paired remember? You’re meant for this. Can you feel it?” 

Slade’s own robinmark was flapping hot gusts of arousal all up and down his body. Judging by the way Jason shuddered, he was feeling the echoes of it, too, from the wolf. Finally, Jason began to move, repositioning himself so that he could move himself more easily over Slade’s lap. 

It felt amazing having Jason enveloped around him—watching Jason penetrate himself on Slade’s cock, the contraction and release in the muscles of his thighs as he moved himself up and down again and again. Slade admired the flex of Jason's buttocks as he bounced over Slade. His gaze swept over the hard lines of Jason's back, tracing over rippling muscle as Jason arched in pleasure, over where his wrists were twisting under the wrap of Slade’s leather belt, over the array of healing scars. Some of them were still pink and newly closed, a reminder of just how recently they'd been inflicted.

It brought a tightness to Slade's chest as he reached out to trail his fingers over them—a strangling feeling in his throat, a burning rage—and Slade found himself grabbing Jason's hips, pulling him down and then spinning him around to face him. Slade reached a hand behind Jason's head, brought him down so Slade could claim his mouth, then released him.

"I want you to look at me when you’re being fucked." Slade kept a hand holding Jason's hip as he began thrusting upwards, leaning further back into the cushions to counterbalance his movements. 

Jason fixed the intensity of his blue-green eyes on Slade as he braced himself in position, thighs spread as Slade reached behind Jason to touch the wolfmark. A tingling sensation flooded Slade's entire body and soon he was grunting in fervor with each thrust.

They fell into a steady pace, Jason lowering himself to meet Slade in matched rhythm, the pleasure echoed by the pulsing of karmic impressions each time Slade was buried to the hilt. They were both reaching their peak soon. Slade could tell by the way Jason’s mouth contorted every time he fucked himself down, in how his cock was bobbing a ruddy red, dripping a steady rivulet of pre-come onto Slade’s belly, and in how the the karmic impressions began to shift into a blissfully rapid fluttering of pleasure. 

Slade broke eye contact to pull Jason forward, kissing at the reddened buds of his chest again, sucking at each of them until they were hard and erect once more. Jason whined and gasped and twisted as Slade increased the pace of his upward thrust, jostling and jolting Jason’s body each time he speared into him, until Jason finally came with a shout. He arched and shuddered, painting slade’s chest with streaks of thick come. Slade pumped himself up into Jason a few more times until he came undone as well. He could feel the wetness of his own seed seeping out around Jason’s hole as he slammed them together a final time, holding Jason in place as Slade rode out the tremors of orgasm.

Slade caught Jason as he collapsed against him. They stayed there, Jason in his lap, his hands still bound with Slade still buried in him. They were pressed chest to chest, slippery with sweat and come as they breathed together.

Jason was heavy, but Slade felt disinclined to move him. He liked the feel of Jason surrounding his cock, even with the post-coital sensitivity. It wouldn't take long for him to get hard again like this either and Jason was usually game for a second round.

Slade nudged Jason into a kiss again, only breaking apart to ask, "When are you leaving?" Jason had been preparing for his mission with his new crew over the last week. Too soon, Slade thought. He’d have to find some way of delaying his bird a couple days. Maybe flush out some low grade crook to give Jason a little something more to do in Gotham.

"Tomorrow, maybe." Jason leaned into him, nipping at Slade's bottom lip. "Do you want to come?"

Slade considered for a moment, but then said, "No, I’ve got things to do." 

Which was true. He'd rather Jason not be around if it turned out Sionis wasn't as dead as everyone claimed.

"Are you okay with me going?" Jason pulled back to look Slade in the eye, some trepidation bleeding into his frown.

"Sure. You don’t need a babysitter Jason. Unless you’d rather I keep you on a leash."

"No. I just thought… are you going to be here when I get back?" Jason was flexing his shoulders behind him, freeing himself from the belt that had been wrapped around his wrists.

He kept himself seated in Slade’s lap once his hands were unbound and reached in front of him to grab over Slade’s robinmark. It reignited a spark of karmic impressions through the both of them. It felt warm and that familiar ache inside Slade was throbbing again. It felt like a tug on something buried inside him, but whatever it was it was too deeply rooted to come loose.

Slade reached up to trail his fingers across Jason's throat. He remembered that Sionis had put a collar on Jason. It had made him immediately furious when he saw it but, now that Jason was back at his side where he belonged, Slade wondered what a collar of his own choosing would look like around Jason's neck. Perhaps that was something to look into while Jason was gone. 

In the meantime, Jason was still waiting for a response. Slade moved his hand down to mirror Jason's grasp, wrapping his hand over the wolfmark. 

"Just tell me when." With the corners of his mouth upturned, he added, "And don’t be late. If anyone stops you, I’ll make sure there’s hell to pay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging in there for this fic! Leave me a kudos or comment if you liked it!


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